


Book IV: Hearts Still Beating

by ProphecyGirl



Series: Gravity [5]
Category: The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: #HeadForHeda2k20, Addiction, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, Arkadia, BDSM, Better Than Canon, Biting, Bruising, Camp Jaha | Arkadia, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Clarke Griffin/Lexa Deserve Better, Clarke Griffin/Lexa Smut, Clexa, Did I mention there’s world building?, Dubious Science, Edging, Everyone deserves better, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Grief, Implied Child Death, Madi wants to be Arya Stark when she grows up, Medical Conditions, Medical Procedures, Mind Drives, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Past Child Abuse, Restraint, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Series Rewrite, The Flame - Freeform, The Long Con, Vaginal Fingering, Wonkru, Worldbuilding, but really who doesn't, eligius - Freeform, everyone’s just real broken, i'm fixing it all, i'm here to help, light bloodplay, medical crisis, mount weather 2.0, questionable leadership choices, seamechanic - Freeform, season 5 rewrite, spacekru, world building, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 105,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphecyGirl/pseuds/ProphecyGirl
Summary: Spacekru returns to the ground with assistance from the crew of the Eligius IV while facing further complications with Lexa and the Flame. Meanwhile, a tenuous alliance forms between the estranged Arkadia and Wonkru settlements in anticipation of the new arrivals.Book IV of the 'Gravity' series - a complete series rewrite from "Bodyguard of Lies" on. Book IV takes place during canon season 5.I'm a little let down but I'm not deadThere's a little bit more that has to be saidI'm a little bit home but I'm not there yetIt's one to forgive but it's hard to forgetAll the broken hearts in the world still beatLet's not make it harder than it has to be- Ingrid Michaelson, “Girls Chase Boys”
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Bellamy Blake/Echo, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Luna/Raven Reyes, Luna/Raven Reyes/John Murphy, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Reese Lemkin & Madi
Series: Gravity [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1346269
Comments: 46
Kudos: 93





	1. A Madness

_I wake up every morning with a new resolve_

_Two hands and one heart, let the world revolve_

_One chance to reach out and find a place for me_

_One chance to find love for all humanity_

_Love is a madness, if thwarted it develops fast_

_When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain_

_I keep skipping stones, hoping for a change_

_But things just stay the same_

_I keep walking roads, looking for a home_

_That I can call my own_

\- Hans Zimmer & Dan Reynolds, “Skipping Stones”

**A Madness**

Echo, Luna, Roan, and Aden waited on either side of the hallway, each armed with as many weapons as they could hold apiece. Madi, Raven, and Clarke stood just beyond the airlock door, tightly clumped around Octavia, who was uncomfortably wearing Lexa’s mantle.

“Did I mention that I really hate this plan?” Octavia said quietly through gritted teeth, adjusting the strap.

“Once or twice,” Raven muttered under her breath. “And for the record, I agree.”

“Neither of you hate it as much as Lexa does,” Clarke hissed, thinking of Lexa left fuming in the closest room. They had otherwise unanimously decided she wasn’t anywhere near ready to be involved in a potential firefight. Clarke had tried to make Madi wait with her, until Madi pointed out that she was more qualified as a warrior than Clarke was these days.

Murphy waited just ahead of them, at the airlock panel. He glanced at Clarke nervously. “Are you sure about this?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. The Ring gave a massive shudder as the small ship that had launched from the _Eligius IV_ attached to the docking bay, and everyone swayed for a moment.

Clarke touched Octavia’s lower back, her voice barely audible. “You’ve got this, _Wanheda_.”

Octavia tilted her chin up just slightly and gave one short, single nod in Lexa’s signature move, setting her jaw. They all watched nervously as the doors on the new ship began to slide open, and Madi instinctively reached for Octavia’s hand, sending a sharp ping through Clarke’s chest. Octavia squeezed her hand gently as she eyed the dark figures on the other side of the airlock.

There were four of them, from what she could see; at least they had the numbers if that’s all there was. They were armed with large firearms, and one of them stepped forward, probably taking stock of the situation as well.

Octavia turned the sword in her hand, deliberately using the freshly sharpened edge to reflect the ceiling light against the door before giving a nod to Murphy. The group took a collective breath as he pushed the airlock door open, removing the last barrier between his family and the strangers.

The one who had stepped forward was a woman as well. Her hair was tied back in a neat but casual ponytail, and she wore a brown jumpsuit and lightweight armor. Her pale blue eyes scanned them quickly, taking stock of the situation before she cleared her throat.

“Who’s in charge here? I’m guessing you?” She addressed Octavia, glancing at the sword in her hand. “I like the Medieval vibe, but we aren’t here to fight.”

“Why are you here, then? Why do you invade my people’s home?” Octavia gave her best impression of _Heda_ , and even Clarke was mildly surprised by how accurate the portrayal sounded.

The woman remained where she was, the men behind her looking only slightly less nervous than the occupants of the Ring looked at the moment. She studied Madi with slight interest before returning her gaze to Octavia’s. “We didn’t know anyone was here. We’re looking for medical supplies. How many of you are there?”

“This is all of us.” Clarke stepped forward, pausing when the newcomers raised their guns at her. She quickly put her hands up, but didn’t move any closer. “What kind of medical supplies?”

The woman glanced sideways at Murphy. “I’m guessing the kid is yours?”

Madi narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “I’m not a _kid_.”

“Of course you’re not.” The woman smiled then, a bemused look crossing her face briefly. “You know what _quid pro quo_ means, kid?” Madi just glared at her in response. “It means I won’t call you ‘kid’ if you tell me how many people you actually have. And why your leader let us dock with you.”

“I’m not stupid, either,” Madi shot back. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Yeah, I can see that. So, how about this instead?” Before the words were out of her mouth, one of the men had grabbed Murphy and had a pistol to his head, while the woman aimed her gun directly at Octavia. “You tell me what the game is here, how many people you have hiding back in that hallway—and anywhere else on this ship—and we won’t blow out everyone’s brains. How about that deal, kid? You like that one better?”

Madi glanced at Octavia, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. Madi swallowed hard, but set her jaw, saying nothing.

“How about you, Leader? Are you stupid? Believe me when I tell you that we outgun you, even if you have 50 more people back there. Even if you have a _hundred_ people back there.” She smiled dangerously, addressing Madi once more. “Hey kid, you ever seen a sonic drill? It’s designed to blow holes in mountains. And my guys still on the expedition vessel have one ready to go and instructions to blow the hell out of this place if anyone is… Uncooperative.”

“If they do that, you’ll die too,” Clarke pointed out, and the woman just smiled again.

“But my people will still be alive. Can you say the same?”

Octavia pressed her forehead against the gun aimed at her, her eyes flashing and tone firm. “If you blow this place to hell, you’ll destroy the medical supplies you need. Not to mention the doctor you probably need, too. I don’t know your business, but I don’t think you’re going to destroy the only healer left in the universe.”

The woman in the jumpsuit chuckled lightly and tilted her head, taking Octavia in once more. “I would hate to have to kill such a strong leader. I like that in a woman. ”

“I’m taken, but thanks for the interest,” Octavia sassed. “Lower your weapons, and maybe we can work something out.”

The woman leaned just a little closer towards Octavia, tilting her head and addressing her own people without breaking her gaze.

“Kill the kid.”

“No!” Aden flew from the hallway, his gun at the ready and Luna still attached to his back, trying to prevent him from moving closer. Echo and Roan quickly followed, each of them with weapons drawn.

“Well, what do we have here? Lying right off the bat, is that any way to treat a guest?”

“You’re not guests, you’re invaders,” Raven snapped, her gun trained on one of the men.

“Potato, po-tah-to,” the woman replied. “All I’m asking for is for your leader to tell me the truth.”

A voice responded from behind them that sent a chill up Clarke’s spine.

“The truth is I am actually the leader here, not Octavia.” Lexa stood shakily behind them, one hand braced on the wall for balance. Clarke groaned internally; she should have known the temptation would be too much for Lexa to resist, even in her seriously weakened condition.

“Octavia, eh?” The woman lifted an eyebrow appreciatively. “Weird name. What’s yours, Actually-The-Leader?”

“Lexa. And I would appreciate if you would ask your attendant to take his gun off my daughter.”

The woman studied her briefly and in a move they had certainly not been expecting, she nodded to the man, who lowered the gun he’d been holding on Madi. Clarke allowed herself a brief moment to appreciate how Lexa still maintained a serious air of authority, even when her unsteady legs were visibly trembling beneath her.

“Nice to meet you, Lexa. You can call me Diyoza.”

Lexa glanced at Madi, and then to Murphy. “Perhaps our people can help each other. We have something you need, and you have something we need.”

“And what is it you need, Leader Lexa?”

“A ride to the ground.”

The man holding Murphy hostage spoke for the first time then, his voice gravelly and an unpleasant expression on his face. “I don’t like it. They probably don’t even _have_ any medical supplies. They just want to make us vulnerable.”

Diyoza shrugged a bit at Lexa. “McCreary’s not my smartest guy by a long shot, but I think he’s pretty on the money right now. If we lower our weapons, what’s to stop your people from killing mine and just taking our ship?”

Lexa took a step forward and began to open her mouth. Clarke watched with horrified familiarity as Lexa’s eyes widened slightly and the rest of her froze before she crumpled to the ground. Clarke cried out and rushed to her side, forgetting about the guns, the strangers, and everything else except Lexa, who lay shuddering on the floor, her muscles stretching and straining as she seized.

Diyoza faltered just slightly, but McCreary was the first one to speak. “It’s a trick. She’s faking it.”

“She’s not faking it!” Madi’s eyes were already welling quickly as she snapped at him fearlessly. In response, he gripped Murphy’s collar tighter and aimed his gun at Madi instead.

Diyoza watched as a stream of thick, dark blood began running out of Lexa’s nose and ear. She glanced back at McCreary, an eyebrow lifted.

“Think she’s faking that, too?”

Clarke was in a daze as Lexa’s shudders suddenly stilled, her chest no longer rising. “No. No, no, Lexa, don’t do this. Oh, fuck! She’s not breathing.. Lexa?”

Echo glanced around and made a call, chucking her gun down the hall to Diyoza’s feet before dropping to her knees beside Clarke. She began chest compressions as Clarke tilted Lexa’s chin up to clear her airway.

Diyoza watched with increasing interest and understanding as the others tossed their weapons as well, and held brief, rapid discussions with each other. Several of them just left, jogging down the hall while discussing a stretcher, while two more headed in a different direction for supplies.

Her men were all staring at her as she slung the gun over her shoulder, but it was Shaw who spoke first.

“What is this? After all that, they just lay down arms and walk away? That's crazy.”

“It’s a madness,” Diyoza murmured quietly, watching the tearful chaos exploding before and around her. “Love is a madness.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Paxton snapped.

“Shaw,” she finally commanded, ignoring Paxton entirely. Her eyes were trained on Madi, who was wringing her hands tearfully as she watched the chaos, “Collect the weapons and then stand down. McCreary, let the boy go.”

Paxton looked pissed as he reluctantly let go of Murphy with an unnecessary shove. “This is a mistake.”

“We have their weapons.”

Paxton practically snarled, hungry for blood as ever. “Do you think, in your infinite wisdom, that the ones who just left won’t come back with more?”

Diyoza shrugged. “If they do, we kill them all. Starting with the kid.”

♾

Raven sat in the common area, her good leg bouncing anxiously as they all sat in an increasingly awkward silence. The woman—Diyoza—and her men were opposite the rest of them, except the one they called Paxton. He was pacing the room and gritting his teeth, and his entire vibe made Raven feel like she was in the presence of something unholy and full of rage. Like a time bomb about to go off.

She honestly just hoped if he did, that the knife carefully wedged inside her leg brace would be enough to put him down like the rabid dog he seemed to be. If not, there was always the one tucked in the back of her cargos, and a smaller one Roan had custom crafted for her to replace the buckle on her belt seamlessly.

And if those weren’t enough, she had 29 teeth that she was pretty sure she could do some pretty serious damage with if need be.

Luna was in the operating pod, assisting Clarke and Echo. Raven had long since finished pulling blood and was at the part of the experience that she hated the most; being useless, sitting around and waiting, being _patient_. Like it was possible to be patient when someone you loved was on the brink of death. What an aggressively _stupid_ concept.

Diyoza’s pale eyes scanned around the room slowly, measuring each of them up. You could practically hear the hamster in her head running on the wheel, and Raven had a surprisingly bold appreciation for this woman who seemed to study people the way Raven herself did. Slowly, thoroughly—taking her time to make up her mind about someone. This wasn’t a woman that liked playing games, and Raven sheepishly had to admit to herself that she kind of liked her because of that alone.

It wasn’t very often that people took their time to measure you; most waited like snakes, coiled to strike or protect on pure base instinct. But instinct was a funny thing, because it was so often wrong. For hell’s sake, instinct had told Raven she could trust Finn, could believe in him; that he would never hurt her like so many others had.

And obviously, she’d been wrong.

So fuck instinct; the measure of a person wasn’t cultivated from the first point on your shared timeline, it was distance over time. How far would someone go to have your back, to rescue you, to let you lean on them? How far would they go to lean on you? Would they break your heart or your spirit, would they shatter the nerves in your leg? And if they did, was that the measure of them, or did it matter if years later you trusted them with your life, your soul, your heart? Would you let them braid your hair and sleep in your bed and listen to music while sharing a packet of chips with you?

After all, instinct told her not to trust John Murphy. Time had showed the truth of him, and he rubbed her shoulder comfortingly as if he could hear her thoughts. Raven gratefully leaned into his touch, and Diyoza’s analytical gaze fell on them.

“How long have you been together?”

Raven practically felt Murphy blushing, and she shrugged her other shoulder as he replied, “Um, we aren’t, really. Not.. not really, like that.”

Diyoza just raised an eyebrow, and Raven felt practically haughty in her sudden need to defend her friend, her brother in arms, her confidante, her—Jesus, there wasn’t even a word for everything he had become to her and to Luna. And really, Raven thought to herself defensively, fuck labels anyway, right? Who needed them?

“We’re unofficial fuckless buddies who share a life and usually a bed,” Raven said, her voice tighter than she would have liked. Anticipating misunderstanding, rejection, judgement for sure—how did you explain something that had no name to someone who couldn’t see your heart? Who didn’t know what you knew about a simple boy with floppy hair and a mischievous grin as broken as yourself, or a simple girl with wild red-tinged curls and a voice like ocean waves, just as broken too? How did you even begin to name such a thing, especially when people were quick to judge and even quicker to dismiss things they didn’t understand?

It turned out she didn’t need to worry about the reaction of a woman who also took her time to study people before deciding on them. Much to her pleasant surprise, Diyoza nodded her head in approval and looked vaguely impressed by her honesty. “I had one of those once.”

Raven lifted her chin appreciatively and gave her what could almost pass for a smile. Her hesitance wasn’t against Diyoza in that moment, though. It just felt wrong to smile when Lexa was in surgery and her entire family was hurting this much in the meantime.

Just then, the door opened. Every head in the room swung towards it when a disheartening wail filled the room behind Echo’s shattered face.

“W—we stopped the bleed, but she’s.. not waking up,” Echo stuttered out quietly, her face lined with worry and guilt and frustration and hopelessness. The sight burned Raven deep into her core and her heart dropped into her throat, then further, into the hollow, aching, pit of her stomach.

“No!” Madi wailed, collapsing in on herself until she was a crumpled, sobbing ball on the floor.

“W-what happened?” Aden choked out, trying to hold his tears back.

Echo shook her head. “We think it’s the flame. We need to take it out, but the neural mesh is embedded in her brain stem. If we had Abby..”

Diyoza frowned. “You said there was no one else on the ship.”

“There isn’t,” Octavia replied quietly. “Abby is Clarke’s mother, a more experienced doctor. She’s on the ground.”

Diyoza nodded slowly as the pieces fell into place. “That’s where we’re all going anyway, right? What’s the problem?”

Echo’s voice was strained and her tongue felt thick in her dry mouth. “We can’t bring Lexa through an atmo landing. Not in this condition, she won’t make it. Not to mention, she might bleed to death before that even matters.”

Diyoza smiled slowly as another wail from Clarke burst out of the room and filled all the empty space around them.

“Want to bet?”

♾

It didn’t take long to get Lexa settled into the cryogenic chamber, and Clarke stubbornly stood near it, her hand pressed to the door. Eyes still red and puffy from sobbing, her voice dry and cracked with the few words she had spoken.

Roan rubbed her back comfortingly, not bothering with pretty lies or vague reassurances that would bring her no relief anyway. He just stood with her, a guard dog at her side. At her insistence, Madi had gone with the others to buckle into seats, but Clarke had steadfastly refused to move from her vigil at Lexa’s icy respite, and Roan had steadfastly refused to move from his vigil at Clarke’s side.

When Shaw’s voice came over the intercom to announce they would be moving shortly, Raven’s voice was chattering wildly in the background about the ship, and its fuel sources, and the advanced tech equipment that was present.

Roan gave a gentle smile as he and Clarke sat on the ground and braced as best they could.

“Raven sounds like she’s in her glory up there.”

Clarke nodded a little, her heart too heavy for more than that minor acknowledgement, and truthfully Roan was appreciative of any response he could get from her. Especially if it didn’t involve having to put her in a choke hold or bandage anything as a result.

He put his arm around her shoulders as the engines roared to life, vibrating the floor beneath them slightly as the ship began to pull away from the Ring’s orbit. Clarke leaned into him a bit. She bit her lip and sighed and felt a jump in her stomach as they began to cruise. Everything about her was tight and anxious and knotted, and some of it began to ease just slightly as she came to the realization that she would see her mother soon. She would see Bellamy and Monty and Lincoln. She was going back to her world, to her other family and friends. She was going back to the ground she had been reborn on; back to the life she had tried to build there.

Clarke was going _home_.


	2. All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My mercy prevails over my wrath." - Hadith Qudsi

_She sees him laying in the bed alone tonight_

_The only thing touching him is a crack of light_

_Pieces of her hair are wrapped around and 'round his fingers_

_And he reaches for her side, for any sign of her that lingers_

_One of them bullets went straight for the jugular vein_

_There were people running, a flash of light, t_ _hen everything changed_

_Nothing really matters in the end, you know, all the worry is over_

_Don't be afraid for me my friend, one day we all fall down forever_

_So you let time forgive the past and go and make some other plans_

_And you are not alone, laying in the light_

_Put out the fire in your head and lay with me tonight_

\- Patty Griffin, “Not Alone”

**42 Days After Praimfiya**

“Chancellor? Chancellor Kane?”

Kane startled, nearly dropping his book, and looked up over his reading glasses at one of Abby’s apprentices.

“Emori. Come in, come in.” He waved his hand at her, inviting her into his quarters. “I’m sorry, Abby’s already gone down to the hospital wing. She and Nyko had a procedure this morning.”

“Actually, I’m here for you,” Emori said, glancing around the room. It was beautiful, with thick, rich tapestries in gemstone tones covering the walls. There were several sets of curtains, making it appear as though the room had a view, and a handful of extraordinary paintings dotted the walls as well, providing quite an impressive actual view. Emori couldn’t keep her eyes from straying as she continued.

“I just saw something I thought you might want to know about. Jaha has been talking to people. Telling them our resources won’t last in here. That the Mountain can’t sustain this many lives, stuff like that. And I just saw him meeting with a group, maybe a dozen or so? They were getting pretty loud.”

Marcus’s headache was very nearly visible in the lines that crossed his forehead as he removed his glasses and dropped them on the desk. He rubbed his face tiredly. “Mostly _Skaikru_ , I assume.”

Emori shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe? Hard to tell, I don’t even know the people from my own clan. _Frikdreina_ raise themselves. You know, if they are allowed to live at all.”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. “Well, _mochof_ , Emori. I appreciate your letting me know, and I’ll look into it. I know things have been.. _difficult,_ with Jaha in the past. But I’ve known him a long time, and Thelonious will always do what he believes is best for his people. Inciting a riot would put his people at great risk in here as well. He wouldn’t do it, because there’s nothing to be gained.”

“Are you kidding? There’s plenty to be gained,” Emori said, a little louder than she intended. She paused, shifting uncomfortably, but the Chancellor just continued looking at her, waiting for her to finish. She swallowed hard and quickly lowered her voice once more. “I’m sorry, Chancellor. It’s just—if he did have enough followers, they could take this place over and kill those who refuse to follow. His people have died for their cause before, and this time it means they have plenty of food to last until Praimfiya is passed. They have everything to gain and nothing to lose. Would you die for your cause?”

Kane blew out a breath of air slowly. “I very nearly have, more than once. You?”

“I don’t know,” Emori said, rubbing her hands together anxiously behind her back. “I’ve never had a cause.”

Kane held her gaze, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Would you like one?”

“What kind?” Emori responded unsurely.

Kane sat back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely on his chest. “Find out what _Audaskai_ is planning. If you’re correct, many of our people could die. As you said, Thelonious’ people are willing to die for their cause and they’ve already killed for their cause. We could use a head start on what comes next. Minimize the casualties.”

One thing Emori had always liked about Marcus Kane was that he chose his words very carefully. Sometimes a shared silence would stretch into moments so long they felt awkward; but you could tell he was working things out internally all the while.

So when Marcus Kane said things like “ _our_ people” and “ _we_ could”, it was deliberate. And although he was attractive and charismatic enough that he might have convinced everyone of all sorts of lies easily, everything he said was genuine and heartfelt.

After a lifetime of not trusting anyone besides her brother, it had surprised her to realize that she did, in fact, trust Chancellor Kane. He had a kind heart and good intentions, and he seldom—if ever—even said the word ‘I’. It was always about ‘us’ doing this or that, or the problems or struggles ‘we’ face.

It was that idea of a shared win or a shared loss, the whole “us against the world” approach to leadership, that drew Emori in; made her want to help. She liked and respected Chancellor Kane, and Emori felt like it might be interesting to be part of a team for the first time in her life. It was a good feeling, and she carried no empathy for Jaha or his people.

If she had a cause of her own at all, certainly it was vengeance for the people who had taken so many lives; who had been responsible for the massacre at Tondc, where her brother Otan had been killed while visiting a friend.

A hesitant smile slowly spread across Emori’s face, her eyes already full of mischief.

“You want me to be a spy?”

♾

No one was surprised when _Audaskai_ —its ranks freshly filled, and with more members than ever—took over the hydrofarm.

The clans had been like a classroom full of children realizing they had a substitute teacher—or in this case, a substitute Commander. Rumors spread quickly amidst the dissent; that Lexa was dead, or had abandoned them, or was just weak and afraid and hiding. She had, after all, let the _skayon_ live, let her go free despite her crimes and betrayal, and even brought the girl into her _bed_ of all things.

_‘Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_ ’ was surely a joke; proof of unmatched weakness from the _Heda_ who had abandoned them at the eleventh hour. The idea took hold, and things very quickly became messy. The talk of a Chancellor even softer, weaker than their fallen Heda was, inevitably became the topic of most conversations.

The people were beginning to rebel within weeks of entering the mountain, and with five years still to go and the clan leaders growing ever more distrustful of the soft-hearted leader, Kane eventually saw no other choice. When the hydrofarm was taken back with ruthlessness, and several bodies lay broken and bloody on the floor, Kane sat quietly on the plush couch in his quarters.

He sipped from a bottle of sour mash that had been stashed in the presidential suite where he now lived with Abby. He gazed quietly at the painting opposite him; done by an artist called Blake that depicted the fifth Canto in the Inferno.

That was how Abby found him when she returned from the hospital for the night. She quietly sat beside him, waiting for him to open up while gently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Talk to me, Marcus,” she implored. “Tell me.”

He remained quiet for another moment before speaking softly, his eyes still trained on the painting. “You know what that is?”

Abby shook her head. “It’s a depiction of the fifth circle of Hell, from Dante’s Inferno. I can’t stop staring at it.”

She curled her fingers through his hair lightly. “Why is that?”

He turned a piercing gaze to her, tilting his head into her hand a bit with a sigh of defeat. “The fifth Canto is reserved for sinners guilty of wrath and sullenness.”

“Marcus,” Abby began softly. “They aren’t dead because of you. It wasn’t your wrath that killed Thelonious. He forgot who he was, Marcus. He forgot a very long time ago.”

“Haven’t we all?” he replied rhetorically. “I was the one who allowed he and Charles back into Skaikru. If I hadn’t, maybe there wouldn’t be any bodies to burn tonight.”

Abby’s throat filled with a lump as she leaned into him, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I know who you are, Marcus. You’re brave, kind, and a strong leader. You’re merciful, Marcus. Taking them back, giving them a second chance? That was an act of mercy. You couldn't know how it would turn out.”

“My mercy prevails over my wrath,” Kane murmured thoughtfully.

“What’s that?”

Kane lifted his head to meet her eyes. “It might be a way of life that simply isn’t sustainable now.” He paused, then shook his head slightly. “Maybe it was never sustainable, even before the world ended the first time. Mercy doesn’t protect your people.”

“I don’t believe that,” Abby said stubbornly, fanning her fingers out on his back. “I refuse to believe that. Lexa was a merciful leader, too. Thelonious wasn’t.”

“And where is Lexa now? Who is she to them?” Kane responded, but his tone lacked venom. Rather, his words were heavily weighted with sadness and regret. “Her people no longer respect her.”

“They’re not her people any more, Marcus. They’re your people, and they _need_ you to lead them.”

“I’ve tried,” he snapped tiredly. “I’ve tried to lead them, Abby. But what we call mercy, they call weakness. They won’t follow me. The clans will continue to war with each other for the next five years, and by the time the ground is livable again, there won’t be anyone left to claim it. Abby.. Abby, we won’t make it five years in here like this. The dividing lines are even thicker after today’s bloodshed. What happens tomorrow, when someone else takes over _Audaskai_ and we are right back here again?”

Abby’s face was stoic, her lips pressed together tightly, because she knew he was right, about all of it. She could already sense the change within him, the darkness lurking in his chest as well as her own, because she knew what they would have to become if they wanted the human race to survive.

“What are we going to do about it?”

Kane stayed quiet for a long moment; so long that Abby began to wonder if perhaps he didn’t know the answer after all. Minutes passed before he looked back at the painting and spoke softly.

“We show them our wrath, rather than our mercy.”

Abby gazed at him earnestly, her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Kane swallowed hard before finally meeting her troubled gaze.

“It means blood must have blood after all.”

♾

**6.5 Years After Praimfiya**

Kane eyed Abby closely, his concerns written across his face. “If we’re going to do this, Abby, it has to look real. It has to look like a coup, like you’re acting without my authority.” Abby didn’t respond, and he sighed, tilting her chin just slightly to look her in the eye. “Do you understand what that means? What you’ll have to do?”

Abby swallowed hard and wrapped her fingers around his wrist reassuringly. “I understand it, Marcus. I don’t like it, but what other choice is there? There’s too many of them, and they have too much power now. If we don’t do something, they’ll take over and probably take our heads, too.”

He studied her earnest face closely, his heart already breaking for her.

Abby was haunted by every life she couldn’t save; even more so by the lives she’d been forced to take. It was clear in her eyes, in her voice. In the way she walked with her shoulders slumped just slightly forward, as if her body could not even hold itself up with the heavy weight of the burden that pressed down on her.

Kane leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. Abby’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, before she swallowed hard and pulled away, setting her jaw.

Later. Later, she would lay in bed and shatter, and she would let Marcus pick up the pieces. He would spend hours trying to find where all the pieces went, trying to reassemble her from the broken shards she had once again become. But there would be pieces missing when he was done; there always were.

Sometimes the things you had to do stole bits of you, and no matter how much the stalwart, gentle, man beside you tried, he could not reattach that which had left you forever. He tried—god, Marcus tried so hard to fill her with his love, with his light. He held her heart right beside his own, cradling it carefully the same way he cradled her when the moon had risen. He was tender and careful, even in the way he spoke—treating her like she wasn’t full of spaces where the pieces had broken off and been destroyed, but never treating her like she was fragile. Precious, yes; but never did Marcus look at her like she was made of delicate glass. He saw the strength of her, the fearlessness and the dedication.

He saw _her_. He saw the way her heart bled for those in pain, and the darkness that lived inside her and grew every time she was the one to cause that pain.

He tilted his head then, his fingertips brushing lightly over her jawline, his eyes gazing studiously into hers. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Abby’s voice was soft when she gazed back and replied, “I was thinking about you.”

Marcus smiled, ducking his head just slightly. “Good things, I hope.”

Abby reached out and laced her fingers through his, pressing their hands together. Hands that would soon take another life, make another dark alliance for the sake of their people. Hands that still reached in the night for the fragile, towheaded child with brilliant blue eyes that she ached for, had sworn to protect and failed. Hands that had reached out in love, in violence, in fear. Hands just as skilled at hurting as they were at healing.

Those hands held onto Marcus’ tightly as she pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes before whispering her truth to him.

“Always.”

They held each other for a long moment; so long that Abby felt like it could have been an entire lifetime. But like all of their moments, it had to be cut short. Their people were waiting to be saved, and there was little time to lose to rapidly beating hearts and a soft, comforting embrace and so, Abby pulled away from the man she loved.

Again.

“What we need is a martyr. Someone with a crime that the majority would agree with. Someone they’ll be uncomfortable watching be killed for something they believe they would also do, given the same situation.”

Abby’s voice was soft and tight when she responded. “Ilian _kom Trishanakru_. He stole medication.”

“For a child, right?”

Abby nodded. “One he doesn’t even know, according to the family. They lost their daughter a few months ago. Their son has the same condition.”

“And this condition, it’s fatal?”

Abby’s voice was more bitter than she intended when she responded, “Not if treated early enough.”

“We give each family an allotment, I dont understand wh—“ Kane’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to work it out.

“It’s one of our more rare medications, and the parents were both severely injured and can’t work much. They spent future support credits for their daughter. They’re still 3 or 4 months ahead of their credits, and their latest request for a credit extension was denied. The mother had some sort of a breakdown. Ilian witnessed it and later, he was caught leaving the hospital with several bottles of the medication.”

Kane studied Abby quietly for a moment. Her face was tensed, and her eyes would not meet his, and it made him realize something. “How did Ilian know what medication the child needed?”

Abby didn’t need to say anything; it was written all over her face, and Kane swallowed hard, trying to force his brain to forget that tidbit of information as he nodded slowly.

“He risked his life for someone he didn’t even know. Maybe there’s hope for this world yet.” Kane smiled gently, but Abby didn’t return it; rather, she pulled back just a little bit more—just enough that it made something deep inside Kane’s chest flicker with hurt. Her voice was tight, businesslike, and almost abrasive when she finally responded.

“Considering we’ve all but sentenced him to death for doing so, I highly doubt that.”

♾

Abby sat in silence for what seemed like hours, or possibly even days, before Ilian responded from between the bars of his cell.

“I will give my life gladly for a chance at peace. It is an honorable death you’ve offered me, Abby _kom Wonkru_.” The boy— _and god_ , Abby thought to herself, _is he only a boy, a child himself_ —do have one request in return.”

“Name your price.”

Ilian’s voice was soft, his gaze desperate and pleading. “Move me to Emori’s group.”

Abby eyed him closely, tilting her head and studying his face. “You and Emori are—?”

“Were. We were. It wasn’t right for her.”

“What about you?”

“I love her still, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It is.” Abby paused, then nodded a little. “I can make that happen. But, Ilian—you can’t tell her what’s going on. The less she knows, the safer she’ll be if it goes south.”

“She won’t need to know anything. She won’t kill me.” Ilian sounded far more confident than Abby was, and she tried to remember the last time she felt that confident about anything, but couldn’t. Life had always been far too unpredictable to risk that sort of surety.

“Emori is a kind person, despite being a little lost. But she’s a hell of a fighter. If it’s your life or hers..”

“Abby, I know Emori. I’ve known her much of my life. Trust me when I say, if it is only she and I in the pit, she _will_ hesitate. And when she does, that’s when you..” He trailed off, opting to merely nod instead.

Abbys voice was thick with emotion as she tried to steady herself. “When I kill you.”


	3. Reckless Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eligius IV crew sets down near the Mountain, and Clarke makes a play that puts more than just herself in jeopardy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of Trig, translations at the end as usual.

_I'm a reckless mistake, I’m a cold night's intake_

_I'm a one night too long, I’m a come on too strong_

_I'm a hold my cards close, I'm a wreck what I love most_

_I'm a first class let down, I’m a shut up sit down_

_I'm a day late two face, I’m a burn out quick pace_

_I am a head case, I am the color of boom_

_I'm gonna get ready for the rain to pour heavy_

_Oh, let it fall, fall, let it fall upon my head_

_All my life I've been living in the fast lane_

_Can't slow down, I’m a rollin' freight train_

_One more time—gotta start all over_

\- Imagine Dragons, “Polaroid”

**Reckless Mistake**

Clarke stared at the ‘welcoming committee’ through the glazed windows of the ship and felt her heart drop into her stomach. Diyoza stood, tall and proud, on the exit ramp, surrounded by half a dozen of her men. Most of them were wielding large, cannon-esque guns; modified sonic drills, she had said. Weapons that could cause great devastation.

Perhaps not as great as the hundred or so people that stood a handful of yards away, also heavily armed, though.

“Where are my people?” A male voice on the very front line demanded, and Clarke felt her spirits lifting in her chest despite the standoff.

Beside her, Octavia breathed out softly. “Bellamy..”

“They’re here. I’d be more comfortable letting them come out if the rest of your people lowered their weapons, though.”

Bellamy shook his head a little. “We’ll lower them when you do. How do I know this isn’t a trick, that my people aren’t up there on the Ring, already dead?”

Diyoza had ordered everyone to stay where they were when she realized they were being met with hostility and weapons; that it be only her own men at her side, if a fight was to break out. It was her right, Clarke supposed, since it was her ship. But the anxiety and lack of something to do to cool tempers now had Clarke filled with doubt about all of it.

They’d been met with guns and grim faces, and tempers were flaring from the word ‘go’. If Bellamy thought they were dead, he would lead the attack himself. That’s what Clarke would do in the situation, anyway. From this side of things, she was glad she had insisted Raven, Luna, Murphy, and the kids stay onboard until they were sure things were safe.

A Grounder she didn’t recognize stepped forward. “If _Leksa kom Trikru_ is on board, she must show herself. She must answer for her crimes.”

“Crimes?” Clarke and Echo repeated quietly. Octavia’s face paled slightly.

“A vote of no confidence has been held. Wonkru demands justice from their former Commander.”

“ _Wonkru_?” Octavia whispered.

At the same time, Clarke hissed, “Former?”

Echo and Roan stayed silent, sharing a dark look with each other.

A young man—perhaps only a couple of years older than Aden—stepped forward as well, announcing, “I challenge _Heda Leksa kom Trikru_ to a bout of solo gonplei.”

“Fuck,” Octavia whispered. “What are we gonna do? We can’t show up without the Commander, especially if this is the political climate here..”

“Then we’ll have to show up with a Commander.” Clarke set her jaw, and spoke softly while still eying the increasingly restless crowd. “Echo, tell me you have your field kit on you.”

“Always,” Echo replied, her gaze on the crowd as well. “Why?”

“You know that scar on the back of Lexa’s neck?”

♾

It seemed like hours, or a lifetime even, had passed since they landed, but really it had only been perhaps five or ten minutes that they had been locked in a standoff. Diyoza was beginning to fill with self-doubt, a feeling she was unused to and in fact, despised. She began to wonder if it was a trap all along; perhaps the people in space had played her for a fool, and now their people left on the ground would stick her foolish head on a pike somewhere to warn off other fools.

Behind her, on the leftmost side of the ship, Aden and Madi both paced like caged tigers, each seemingly unaware of the other despite frequently crossing paths. Luna and Raven watched in dismay, while Murphy watched the confrontation outside with a similar look on his face.

“They want to kill her,” Aden practically spat. “I won’t let them.”

“I’m sure there’s some kind of misunderstanding,” Luna offered weakly, knowing full well that was the understatement of the century. “We can talk to them—”

“No way,” Raven snapped, surprising herself with her own darkened tone. “We aren’t going anywhere. We’re keeping our traitorous asses right here on this ship until everyone else takes a chill pill. If they’re this riled up about Lexa, what do you think their reaction will be to the _natblida natrona_?”

Madi glanced around at the others with a sour look on her face. “We spent all this time training to fight, and you just want us to hide?”

“Madi, there’s got to be a hundred people out there right now, at least. And they’re pretty pissed at Lexa, who is their leader. What do you think they’ll do to Luna, or to your brother, when they realize who they are?”

Madi sniffed the air disapprovingly, but seemed to settle down just slightly. “Then what’s the plan? What are we going to do? They’re going to start shooting at each other any minute.” When she got no response, Madi continued earnestly. “We have to do _something_. We can’t just wait here to die! We could have done that on the damn Ring!”

Raven glanced around the room and set her jaw, her tone decisive. “Clarke will come up with something.”

“Are we talking about the same Clarke?” Murphy let out a short, sarcastic snort. “Two days ago she couldn’t have tied her shoes, or even tell you which part of her body they went on, and now you think she’s just gonna pull a brilliant plan out of thin air and save us all?”

“Yes,” Raven responded firmly, despite every face in the room looking back at her with doubt. “I do think that, because that’s what Clarke _does_.”

“You’d better hope you’re right, because right now I’m thinking we’d be better off just slamming the door shut and heading back to the Ring as fast as possible.” Murphy muttered, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“I am right,” Raven said confidently. Internally, however, she added ‘ _I hope_ ’ and crossed her metaphorical fingers that she was right, and despite everything, Clarke would come through at the eleventh hour one more time.

Luna was still gazing out the window as Madi flopped down with annoyance, and they all remained silent for a minute or two, until Luna’s voice broke the silence once more.

“Oh, _jok_ ,” she murmured.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Murphy responded as he and Raven pressed in around her to look out the window.

Luna gulped and glanced back at Raven. “Clarke pulling a plan out of thin air.”

“What’s happening? I can’t see!” Madi tried to wedge her face in with theirs as well, just barely catching a glimpse of a dark figure walking slowly out of the ship. Diyoza’s people parted to let the figure pass.

Raven felt the blood draining from her face as she spotted what Luna had only moments ago.

Blonde hair was swept over one shoulder, falling in loose waves alongside the back of her neck, where a fresh, hastily stitched scar now ran vertically down it. Lexa’s mantle sat on her shoulder, the red velvety material just barely trailing on the ground behind her.

“Oh, no..” Raven groaned.

♾

Clarke walked slowly and steadily out of the ship, her eyes locked on Bellamy’s gaze of relief until she reached her destination. She gazed slowly over the sea of warriors and straightened her back, folding her hands behind it.

She stood silently facing the crowd as a chaotic range of reactions broke out.

“How dare you wear the mantle of the Commander.”

“ _Yu laik skayon, yu nou laik Heda_!”

“Liar!”

“Thief!”

Clarke put her hands in the air, waiting for the crowd to settle as Diyoza’s men worriedly shifted their weapons. When the yelling had died down marginally, she finally opened her mouth.

“Yes. I am the sky girl. And I have been to the sky once more, with _Heda Leksa kom Trikru_ , and I’ve returned again, with only her spirit.”

Using the same small knife that Echo had used to cut into the back of her neck before stitching the wound hastily, Clarke made a deliberate and deep slash across her palm. She held her hand up as the nightblood began to run freely down her wrist and arm. The crowd watched in shock as she turned slowly, ensuring that everyone could see how dark her blood was; that it was no trick of the light.

“ _Ai laik natblida. Keryon kom Heda don sad in,_ ” she announced fiercely. Bellamy was watching her with stunned worry now; the remainder of the crowd was full of mostly disbelief and awe.

Clarke slowly scanned the sea of stunned faces surrounding her and took a deep, slow breath. One more glance across the army, and her voice sounded with every ounce of confidence she could generate, reverberating against the metal shell of the ship. “ _Ai ste yu heda nau_.”

“Impossible!”

“It’s a trick.”

Several people called for her head, and Clarke swallowed thickly, but let nothing show on her face. She hoped, if this didn’t work, that at least it would give Diyoza time to shut the door and run before things got even uglier.

Just when she was contemplating leaping into the unruly crowd to let them rip her apart as a distraction, a girl approached with long, multi-tonal dreadlocks and a gemstone in her nose that flickered in the sunlight. It took Clarke’s mind a moment to place her.

“Gaia?”

The girl’s face was serious; solemn as she approached and took Clarke in slowly. She did not say anything at first as her eyes scanned Clarke rapidly.

“May I see the back of your neck?” she finally asked.

Clarke nodded slowly and turned just a little as Gaia swept her hair aside and carefully inspected the fresh stitches. She ran a single fingertip over the wound, and Clarke fought to keep her face expressionless.

She couldn’t even bring herself to take a breath as Gaia silently inspected her; took her hand and dipped her fingers into the dark blood that still flowed there, and the clotting remains already drying on her neck as well.

Gaia gave her one more look before stepping forward and addressing the crowd.

“ _Em’s laik natblida_. This is no trick. She carries the Flame inside her; she carries the Spirit of the Commanders. _Keryon kom Heda don sad in_.”

Clarke watched with an emotion that was relief and terror somehow wrapped into one as Gaia knelt before her, ducking her head demurely.

“ _Heda Klark kom Skaikru ste kicken_!”

A chorus quickly rose around them as the others from the ground quickly took a knee, repeating Gaia’s words. Though many of them were still clearly angry, none looked quite as angry as Bellamy did as he caught her eye from under his long hair. Had he said something out loud as he knelt in the dirt, Clarke thought it was unlikely she would hear him through the din of the crowd that was currently swearing their loyalty to her.

As it was, he didn’t need to say anything. Six and a half years apart had not in any way seemed to dull their ability to communicate with a mere shared glance, and the look on Bellamy’s face told her everything she needed to know at the moment; that she had made a terrible mistake in doing this.

Clarke took a slow, steadying breath and commanded the people— _her_ people now, to rise once more—and to lower their weapons; that the people she had arrived with were not here to fight and should be treated as allies. If this charade meant her death, then ironically that was something she could live with. If it meant her family would be safe, her death was a small price to pay.

They would believe Lexa, Luna, and Aden were dead; they would not know Madi was a _natblida_ at all, and she trusted the others to figure the rest out. All she cared about now was getting to Abby, and getting Abby to Lexa. That was the mission, and this was how they would get it done; with the others hiding safely on the ship, Clarke felt somewhat confident that she could create enough of a distraction to—

“ _Chit yu bilaik_?” Gaia asked, standing as the rest of the crowd did, and Clarke felt a sharp pain shoot across her chest, when the last voice she wanted to hear just then responded.

“ _Ai laik Madi kom Skaikru_.”

Gaia studied the child hard, a frown on her face as she turned to Clarke again, clearly unsatisfied with the minimal answer she had received. “Who is this?”

Every muscle in Clarke’s body was tensed as she responded, “ _Dison laik ain yongon, Madi._ ”

“I did not realize you had a child,” Gaia was practically floored, scanning Madi analytically. "How old are you?"

_If the truth works, it’s easier to remember than a lie_ , Clarke thought to herself.

“She was orphaned. Lexa and I took her in just before _Praimfiya_.”

“That was quite noble of you.” Gaia didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded nonetheless, and continued leading them through the dispersing crowd. Clarke wasn’t sure exactly where they were headed, but it was the least of her worries for the moment.

“Are you completely out of your mind, Madi?” Clarke hissed at her.. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“I’m not letting you do this alone, Clarke.”

“You could be killed, Madi. It wasn’t your call.”

Madi’s face darkened just slightly. “Well, taking Lexa’s place as leader wasn’t yours either, so I guess we both overstepped.”

Clarke grit her teeth as Gaia looked back over her shoulder. “ _Yu ste ogud, Heda_?”

Clarke forced a smile to her lips. “ _Sha, mochof_.” When Gaia’s gaze lingered, Clarke reached out and took Madi’s hand, ignoring the soft scoff that came from the girl’s throat.

They walked reluctantly hand-in-hand, the angry crowd having mostly dissipated and left Diyoza’s people at the mouth of the ship, struck dumb by whatever had just happened.

After a minute or so, Madi spoke softly, under her breath. “Why are we lying to them, anyway?”

“Because if we don’t, they’ll kill Lexa.” Clarke whispered, her jaw clenched with stress.

Madi’s brow furrowed. “For being _sick_?”

“For being weak,” Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes tracking back and forth over the dissembling crowd; many of whom paused to kneel once more as she passed.

Clarke’s gaze shifted sideways, where several people were kneeling on the ground, their hands and heads sticking out of the wooden stockade that held them prisoner, as several children ran in circles around them, occasionally swatting the prisoners with long, thin sticks. So much for _ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_ , she thought with a pang in her gut.

“The ground is really disappointing so far.” Madi’s face scrunched up a little as she, too, gazed around, and Clarke couldn’t help the bitterness in her tone when she replied.

“Tell me about it.”

Gaia stopped at a rather plain-looking and squat hut, her voice apologetic. “Forgive me, _Heda_. The destruction of Polis means that we have had to rebuild, but we have nothing so grand as a Commander deserves yet in New Polis. I will request Chancellor Kane put some people on it, but for the time being, I hope this is.. satisfactory.”

Polis was gone? Slightly stunned, but Clarke shook it off; it was just a place, after all. Sure, it had been her and Lexa’s home once, but it was hardly something to worry about just now. Gaia seemed to be waiting for a response, so she cleared her throat.

“Oh, this is.. great. Better than great. I was never really a fan of Polis anyway. Too crowded, you know? This is all.. open, and woodsy. Lexa will lik—er, would have, liked this better, I think.”

Gaia gave her a small smile. “Lexa _kom Trikru_ was once a very fine commander. My mother always spoke fondly of her.”

Clarke couldn’t help it; she bristled at the idea that Lexa had been or was now anything less than the finest Commander of all time. Beside her, Madi bristled a bit as well, and Clarke rushed to speak before Madi lost her cool and blew the entire thing.

“Ah, speaking of your mother, where is she? I’d like very much to play catch up with her.”

Gaia waved her hand dismissively as she opened the heavy wooden door to the hut. “The last I heard, she fled to Arkadia.”

“Fled?”

Gaia’s expression turned sour, her tongue coated in bitterness and perhaps even anger. “She was a coward. She left in the night, as a thief would. She has never respected our ways, and it dishonors her. It dishonors us all.”

Clarke blinked, slightly dazed and very much not understanding what that meant. “Oh. I uh, I’m sorry you’ve—or, we’ve been—dishonored. But I really need to speak with her. I have a very important message for Indra.”

Gaia studied her closely for a moment before nodding. “Okay. I will do what I can to send word to her. A Commander’s _eno-telon_ is an important tradition. But it will have to wait, we have far too much to do.”

Clarke blinked once more, glancing around the simple and mostly-bare cabin they had entered as Madi did the same. “Uh, we do? What.. do we have to do, exactly?”

Gaia laughed softly. “Your ascension, of course. I mean, I know you’ve already taken the Flame, but our people need tradition, they need ceremony. It is what separates us from the animals.”

“Oh, is that all?” Madi muttered under her breath, getting a light elbow to the side from Clarke in response.

Off the look of concern on Clarke’s face, Gaia continued. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to take the Flame again. We’ll just do the reading of the names, the blessing—” Gaia paused, shaking her head a bit.

“Well, you know all about it already, of course. I apologize. This is my first ascension, and it is a highly unusual situation, what with not having a Conclave. But I will do my best for you, _Heda, ai swega em klin_. This will be an ascension to remember over the campfire years from now. The first Chosen _natblida_ ever, I could never have imagined. I’ll start arranging things, while you begin the purification ritual. We will do it tonight, before the populace grows restless once more.”

Clarke just stood staring, totally dumbfounded, as Gaia exited and closed the door behind her. This had definitely not been part of the plan—although it was barely a plan, Clarke supposed, as she continued to stare at the closed door. 

She had the vaguest feeling that this was probably exactly what Bellamy had been thinking about, and she began to panic. She didn’t know much about this Ascension, but she knew enough to know that with the Flame still inside Lexa’s head and malfunctioning all to hell, she was definitely fucked right now.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” Clarke whispered in dismay.

“What are we gonna do now, _Heda_?” Madi asked haughtily, looking out the window at the now-bustling center of New Polis, where Diyoza and several others were being escorted with intrigued looks on their faces.

Clarke remained silent, a faraway look in her eyes, and suddenly Madi didn’t find the situation quite so ridiculous anymore; in fact, she began to grow worried when Clarke didn’t reply.

“ …Clarke?” Still no response, and Madi felt anxiety beginning to hum deep inside her chest as Clarke stared blankly ahead. “Clarke!” Madi swallowed hard as she pushed against Clarke’s arm, the fright in her chest beginning to grow heavier and more oppressive the longer Clarke stayed silent.

“Clarke?” The beginnings of terror spread inside her more rapidly than she could have predicted, and Madi’s voice fell quickly into a frightened, barely-audible, childish whisper as a result.

“Clarke, what are we going to do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGEDASLENG TRANSLATIONS (order of appearance)  
> \- gathered from the show, David J. Peterson's blog, and trigedasleng.net. Any errors in spelling, grammar, or structure are entirely mine. 
> 
> • • Yu laik skayon, yu nou laik Heda - you’re a sky person, you’re no commander  
>  • Ai laik set natblida. - I am a nightblood  
>  • Keryon kom Heda don sad in - the commanders spirit has chosen  
>  • Ai ste yu heda nau - I am your commander now  
>  • Em’s laik natblida - she is a nightblood  
>  • Heda Klark kom Skaikru ste kicken - long live commander Clarke of the sky people  
>  • Chit yu bilaik - who are you?  
>  • Dison laik ain yongon - this is my child  
>  • Yu ste ogud - you okay?  
>  • she, mochof - yes, thank you  
>  • ai sonraun laik yu sonraun - my life is your life (Lexa’s policy)  
>  • eno telon - last words (before death)


	4. Fixed to Fly

_I could see the signs, she was fixed to fly_

_It's always better fought than won for those not afraid to die_

_I couldn't stop, couldn't stop stop stop it_

_It's all the same, she takes the world and I take the blame_

_It's all the same, she wants to drown and I break the chain_

_Caring started it, I can't stop it_

_I believe it's too late I can't stop it_

_It's all for you, you get the change and I give the truth_

_It's all for you, take it to depths they never knew_

_I couldn't stop, couldn't stop stop caring_

\- The Spiritual Machines, “Couldn’t Stop Caring”

Clarke had just decided the best course of action was probably to grab Madi and make a run back to the ship to think of a new plan, all of them together this time, when the door opened again. Clarke held her breath, but it wasn’t Gaia, there to ask why she hadn’t started whatever the Purification ritual was. It was a girl with dark eyes and a tattoo swirling around one, a similar design to Octavia’s. She carried a tray and closed the door behind her, carefully taking a knee before Clarke and offering her the tray.

“I thought _Heda_ might be hungry,” she said by way of explanation.

Clarke felt her stomach do a backflip; she already felt nauseous, and she was fairly certain that she would rather be lashed to a tree and tortured than eat anything just then. “Um, _mochof_. I—uh, I just ate, though.”

“The girl, then.” She offered the tray to Madi, who had a strange look on her face.

“You don’t have to be on the floor,” Madi said, and the girl merely raised an eyebrow at her.

Clarke elbowed her again subtly as the girl replied. “I would take the tray, _Heda_. If the food is not touched, they’ll wonder why I was in here so long.”

Clarke blinked in confusion. “What?”

The girl stood and set the tray on the bed, glancing behind her as though someone might have followed her in without her knowledge. Satisfied, apparently, that they were alone, she turned to Clarke once more.

“Bellamy sent me to find out, in his words, what the hell you think you’re doing.”

Clarke felt a headache quickly forming behind her eyes. “People in stocks, an army of Grounders with guns, the _fighting pit_? I could ask him the same thing.”

“Not while you’re supposed to be purifying,” the girl retorted. “Look, I don’t know you, but Abby always spoke very highly of you. She thinks you must have a plan right now, or you wouldn’t have done something so stupid.”

“Abby? My mother’s alive? She’s here?”

The girl glanced out the window. “For now, but Bellamy and the other Arkadians will be leaving soon. Including Abby, myself, and the other refugees.”

“Refugees?”

She waved it off. “There’s not time to explain. Just know that New Polis is _not_ the place you want to be when _Wonkru_ finds out you’re lying. They’ll kill you, your kid, and everyone else they find onboard that ship. So what’s the play?”

“Look, uh—” Clarke rubbed the bridge of her nose slowly as Madi experimentally tasted several things off the tray.

“Emori. My name’s Emori.”

“Emori,” Clarke repeated. “Listen, can you get my mother on the ship?”

“Why?”

“There’s not time to explain,” Clarke responded as dismissively as Emori had. “I need her and Madi on the ship—what happens to me after that doesn’t matter. Just.. please, get them there. Can you do it?”

Emori crossed her arms and sighed heavily, glancing out the window at the stockade she was starting to feel increasingly certain she would be locked into before nightfall. “I can try. How long do you think you can.. draw out this whole Commander thing before they realize you’re a fraud?”

Clarke shook her head sadly, her voice tight in her throat. “Not long. Don’t worry about me, just.. take Madi, please. Get her and my mother to the ship, they’ll explain everything.”

Madi shoved the tray off the bed, her eyes wide with anger. “You’re just going to abandon us _again_ , Clarke?”

“I’m not abandoning you, Madi. I’m saving you. I’m saving Lexa. She needs my mother more than she needs me right now.”

Madi scoffed, crossing her arms tightly on her chest. “Yeah, I guess it’s just a bonus that you’ll die here and never have to deal with us again, right?”

“That’s not true, Madi.” Clarke’s eyes were glassy behind her unshed tears, and her voice was choked. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife as Clarke and Madi stared each other down, both quivering with emotion. Emori took a small step closer.

“Madi, I’ll make sure Clarke is okay. I promise.”

“Promises are bullshit,” Madi spat, her eyes beginning to well up against her will. “Promise is just another word for a lie.”

“Not to me,” Emori said firmly, squatting down to look Madi in the eye. “If you help me get Abby to the ship, I’ll make sure nothing happens to Clarke. Okay?”

Madi studied her for a moment before slowly giving her a nod, her face still full of suspicion. “What do you need me to do?”

Emori smiled a little. “You know how to start a fire?”

♾

As planned, New Polis was in absolute chaos.

The food storage cabin had gone up in flames that licked the treetops, lighting some of the forest on fire as well. Just adjacent to it, the wooden fencing of the fighting pit crackled with flames as it collapsed in on itself.

People were running around, passing buckets of water and looking for family members and friends as the flames spread out further and further. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to see more than a foot or so at a time.

Emori, having memorized the layout long ago in case the need to escape rose, moved quickly between the buildings until she met with Madi behind a gnarled, overgrown tree. With Madi’s hand firmly in hers, she made her way to the edge of town where Bellamy waited.

He and Abby were discussing something intensely, and quickly stopped when they caught sight of her.

“Emori? Who is this, where’s Clarke?” Abby said, just the slightest hint of panic at the back of her throat.

Madi opened her mouth, but Emori just shook her head as she spoke quickly. “No time to explain now. Clarke should be right behind us. We have to get to the ship right now.”

Abby looked at her like she’d gone insane. “What are you talking about? We’re not leaving Clarke behind.”

Bellamy had a similar expression as he shook his head. “If she’s on her way, we’ll wait.”

“Clarke said we have to go,” Madi responded. “If we stay here, they might catch us all, and we need to get back to the ship.”

“Why?” Bellamy asked. “What’s on the ship?”

Madi glanced at the group, and despite her better judgment and everything in her soul screaming against it, she decided to trust—just this once. She didn’t trust Bellamy—after all, she’d never even met him—but Octavia trusted Bellamy, and Madi trusted Octavia.

“Lexa is.”

Every face looked stunned, including Emori’s, but Bellamy was the one who finally spoke.

“If Lexa’s on the ship, then why the hell is Clarke pretending to be the Commander?”

♾

The group waited with increasing tension on the ship, and the more time passed, the more it began to look like Clarke, in fact, would not be joining them. They passed the time by catching each other up on as much as possible, but the anxiety was mounting quickly.

The brush ahead began to rustle just then, and Emori pointed. “Someone’s coming.”

Every head swiveled towards the woods, just in time to see Diyoza and her men emerge from it. They were running, and as the trees parted wider, it was clear why. A group was hot on their heels, and it sounded like they blamed the newcomers for the fires that were currently reducing their city to ash.

“Start closing it!” Diyoza gasped as she ran at the head of the group.

Raven was the first to react, and obediently slammed her hand down on the button. The ramp began to lift away from the ground and had made it about a foot or so when Diyoza hurled herself inside. Her men were right behind her, and the residents of New Polis opened fire. Madi let out a scream as a bullet whizzed by her and lodged itself into the wall only an inch from her head.

One of the men, Shaw, let out a scream as well, a bullet tearing through his flesh as he tried to pull himself over the edge of the ramp. More shots rang out, and several exclamations of pain followed as Diyoza yanked Shaw inside just before the door shut entirely.

“Oh, fuck,” Shaw gasped shakily as Diyoza rolled him onto his back to inspect the damage. Echo quickly dropped to her knees beside him and helped Diyoza rip apart his bloodied shirt as Abby joined them.

The bullet had torn through his lung; Abby and Echo both knew it the moment they heard the telltale whistling sound of his lost air, the moment they saw how far the blood had already spread on the floor. Abby swallowed hard and looked at Diyoza over his shuddering body, silently shaking her head just slightly. Diyoza’s jaw tightened and she looked back down at him as he expelled his last breath before going still, the light gone from his gaze.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon._ ” Echo swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she reached out to gently close his unseeing eyes.

Diyoza forced herself to press back her emotions as she always did. “Now what? We have no pilot.”

Every gaze turned to Raven, who swallowed hard.

“I can _probably_ fly this thing..”

“What about Clarke? We can’t just leave her down here in the middle of a war,” Bellamy snapped. “They’ll kill her when they realize she’s not really a Commander. If she even lasts that long here.”

“Then we need to get them a real Commander, like Clarke told us to,” Octavia replied, her voice showing no reticence; it was firm and commanding though her eyes were still puffy from her reunion with Bellamy and his confirmation that Lincoln was still alive.

Diyoza nodded her head. “I agree. We get back to Eligius, fix your Commander, and wake the rest of my guys up. They want a war, we can give them a war.”

“Nobody _wants_ a war,” Luna said, her voice strained.

Several more waves of bullets bounced off the metal hull of the ship, and Diyoza and Octavia both looked at Luna pointedly as they began filing back towards the cockpit.

“You sure about that, Red?” Diyoza asked grimly.

“We did this,” Madi whispered softly, as she watched the chaos outside the ship. People were even starting to climb the sides of it. “We started a war.”

Abby knelt beside her, her voice soft but confident. “Madi.. you didn’t start anything. Listen to me. Things were already this way, long before you came down today. We’ve been waging a war for the last six years, but now we might actually get a chance to stop one for a change.”

♾

Madi sat quietly as Raven got them off the ground, looking out the window at the fire and chaos devouring New Polis, and feeling guilty. The girl who had brought her to the ship, Emori, couldn’t be blamed, really—after all, nobody had expected a firefight. But her broken promise still ached inside Madi’s chest, and all Madi could think about besides that, was how she had screamed at Clarke not long ago. Told her she hated her, that she was dead, that—

Madi pulled her knees to her chest tighter, allowing herself to sniffle softly as the burning ground grew smaller and smaller below them.

Emori peeked her head into the corridor, and called out softly, “Madi?”

Madi tensed slightly. She liked the girl; really, she did. But she was just another liar, as far as Madi was concerned.

“I know you’re upset. You think I didn’t keep my promise.”

“You didn’t,” Madi said quietly, her gaze locked on the window. “You’re here. Clarke isn’t.”

“I kept my promise, Madi. I told my friend to find her and protect her. To keep her safe until we get back.”

Madi’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she finally looked at Emori. “What friend?”

“A powerful one. He’ll keep her safe, Madi. You don’t have to believe that, because it’s still true either way.”

Madi just gazed at her solemnly. “I hope so.”

♾

“So what’s the plan? We’ve got chaos on the ground, the Commander in cryo, and right about now, the _Wonkru_ army is probably getting ready to march on Arkadia and kill everyone they can find there. You guys sure know how to get a party started,” Bellamy sighed with exhaustion.

“ _Wonkru_ is completely insane,” Octavia said slowly. “What.. the hell happened to everyone? It’s like a nightmare down there.”

Bellamy and Abby exchanged a look, and Abby began speaking after a moment.

“Peace wasn’t working in the mountain; it was barely _present_. There were already so many clan tensions and feuds, and.. Jaha took advantage of it. _Audaskai_ began recruiting again, more subtly. Spreading rumors about the Commander abandoning her people, instigating fights between clans that already had issues. Telling everyone that we didn’t have enough food or resources to last five years. The people were easy to sway; they were already worried about those things. _Audaskai_ just made it seem more.. imminent and dire.”

“People died. More people would have died, if Marcus hadn’t.. stepped up the way he did. He became the leader they wanted; someone who was ruthless, someone who would make the hard choices, as they saw it.”

Octavia’s voice was quiet as she began to understand. “ _Jus drein, jus daun_.”

“Yes,” Abby replied softly. “And now we’re putting a plan into action to stop it—Marcus and I. To force people to choose a side—mine, or his.”

“And hope like hell more people followed you? Enough that you could force the turnover or something? That’s a really.. roundabout way to go about achieving peace,” Octavia said dryly.

Bellamy spoke quickly, but not harshly. “O, you have no idea what it’s like there. It’s worse than it was before _Praimfiya_. Worse than when we first came down. A lot of people were already angry about Lexa’s new policies, and five years in a hole didn’t do anything to calm them down. Thinning their ranks isn’t optional if we want to have even a chance at beating them.”

“So let’s say Abby and Echo can fix Lexa, won’t _Wonkru_ kill her anyway?”

Abby’s lips were pressed in a thin line. “We have to hope that she can get through to them the way she has in the past. She has a better chance of uniting the clans under peace a second time than Marcus or I do.”

“So that’s the plan? Just.. hope and pray that Lexa pulls through and gives all thirteen clans a good spanking until they behave themselves?” Octavia snapped, starting to pace the floor despite the rocking motion of Raven’s flight. “We’re literally just.. going with the, ‘just wait ’til your dad gets home’ method?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Bellamy offered, raising his brow. Octavia remained uncomfortably silent.

“What about Clarke?” Madi said, entering from where she’d been eavesdropping alongside Emori on the entire thing from the corridor. “We can’t just leave her down there.”

“I told you, Kane will keep her safe. He will get her to Arkadia,” Emori reassured Madi.

Bellamy nodded, leaning forward a bit to address Madi. “Some of my friends are waiting in the woods, to bring more refugees back to Arkadia. They know she’s there, and they won’t leave Clarke behind.”

“Makes them better than we are,” Madi huffed, before flopping to the floor, chewing on the end of her braid nervously as Raven began docking maneuvers with the Eligius.

♾

Abby looked over the scans for the fifteenth time, her face lined with worry.

Echo made another lap around the massive jughandled hallway, no longer able to take the quiet or the heavy sighs coming from Abby every so often. She picked up her pace, wondering if she could make the entire loop once more before Abby set the scans down and picked up the journal again instead.

Waiting.

Waiting was the worst thing in the world, really. The sense of idleness, helplessness. The stillness in your own body and all around you. The lack of _happening_ that had always driven Echo crazy. It was why she was such a skilled warrior. Most people would just _wait_ ; she made a habit of using any down time to push her body or her mind further than the last time.

Each unfathomable waiting period was an opportunity to beat her own record and avoid having to think too much; both results she generally enjoyed. This time, however, she was all too happy to have only made it halfway around when Abby finally emerged and gestured for her to follow.

They headed back out to the cockpit area, where everyone else was assembled, waiting.

“The Flame does need to come out, that much is very clear. But we have a problem.”

“We can’t just rip it out of her head, it’s attached to very important things,” Raven volunteered, and Luna gave her a sidelong glance, rubbing her arm lightly.. “I figured that one out already. We’re gonna have to make an EMP and fry it.”

“Will destroying the Flame also destroy Lexa's memories?”

Raven breathed out slowly, unable to form the words, and after an extended pause, Abby cleared her throat and answered Luna herself. “That’s a risk factor, yes. We don’t really know how the Flame works, not well enough to predict the outcome.”

Diyoza, who had been quietly listening and taking everyone in all this time, glanced up at them. “The Flame? Is that what you call her drive?”

“Drive?” Murphy responded, eyebrows knit together.

“Her mind drive. She has a chip in her head, right? Has her whole life backed up on it?”

The entire room stared at Diyoza like she had sprouted a second head just then, except for Raven, who was looking at her with outright admiration.

Off the others’ looks, Diyoza elaborated, “Before the end of the world—the first time—there was a company that made these chips that recorded your entire life. Rich people put them in their kids so they could have cute family movies to air at birthdays and funerals, basically. They also fitted some crew members—including those on Eligius III and this ship—who were heading into deep space with the drives, so they could record what they found.”

“Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder,” Murphy mumbled.

“That’s a little different from how hers works, but if I can…” Raven murmured, trailing off as she retreated rapidly into her head. She began pulling up information on the ships computer, muttering things about cross-compatibility and translation that made no sense to anyone but herself.

Sensing Raven was rendered mute for the moment, Octavia spoke up. “Even if I thought this was a good idea—which I definitely do not—where are we going to get another mind drive? Cut people in cryo open until we find one whose parents were rich enough to invest in their funeral?”

Diyoza glanced at the corridor leading to the dropship. “Take Shaw’s. He’s not using it anymore.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. Let’s play games with tech we don’t know anything about. We’re hanging an awful lot on hope today, aren’t we?” Murphy’s tone was grim, and he slapped his hands against the wall in frustration, shaking his head in dismay. “One wrong button press, and you delete Lexa, kill Clarke, _and_ make sure we’re all dead in another ugly, bloody war we didn’t ask for. This is a _great_ plan. What if it doesn’t work, Raven? What then?”

Raven looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes uncomfortably plain to see. “It’ll work. I can do it, Murphy.”

“Won’t it just do the same thing to her the Flame is doing now?” Echo pointed out.

Raven let out a slow, steadying breath. “The Flame is a multi-consciousness drive. It holds all of the Commanders, right? That’s the problem, it’s been passed from generation to generation, and each time, it degrades even further. But these.. these ones are different. Look.” She pulled something up on her screen and pointed to it like any of them would understand. “See?”

Roan spoke gently when he replied, “Use your words, Raven. Help us out.”

“It’s a single consciousness drive!” Raven was clearly excited, but everyone else swapped looks between themselves, trying to figure out what exactly that meant.

Raven, who always felt she either moved too slow in her assessments or too fast in her explanations for people, pointed at it again, her voice earnest. “It means I can put Lexa on the new drive. Just Lexa. No more damaged code, no more seizures, no more Commanders in her head."

♾

Clarke was going to get caught, she just knew it. After she’d found Diyoza’s group and told them to run, she had found herself literally stuck, her ankle caught in the winding roots of a tree that didn’t seem eager to let her escape. It had taken precious moments to separate herself, and by the time she did, the first gunshots were ringing out.

She pulled herself up and started limping as fast as she could in the direction of the ship, but even the slightest weight on her foot sent pain shooting up her leg. Not likely it was broken, but it was definitely injured, and she began to realize she was probably not going to make it before they’d be forced to shut the door.

“What now, _Heda_?” She muttered quietly, steadying herself against a tree to rest her swollen ankle briefly. “Brilliant plan, Clarke. Super well thought-out.”

“I disagree,” came a deep voice from behind her.

Clarke let out a list of obscenities in her head and quickly reached for her knife. She spun with it in hand, and was stunned to find herself looking into a very familiar face.

“Kane?”

Marcus Kane stood before her, his village burning to her right, her ship already lifting into the air on her left.

“Follow me, and be quiet. If they catch you now, death is the best-case scenario.”

“I’m the Commander,” Clarke replied weakly, as though that would somehow matter in the face of all that had broken out around them.

“And they think you’re the one who ordered the destruction of their village, and they think you’re a threat to me. Tempers were running high already, and the least I can do for your mother is keep you safe until we figure something out.”

“So, no ascension? Cause I was definitely looking forward to that,” Clarke snapped tiredly.

Kane gazed at her solemnly for a moment before responding. “There was never going to be an Ascension, Clarke. They meant to sacrifice you.”

Clarke looked at him in total disbelief. “Gaia would nev—”

“Gaia serves a new master now, Clarke. That’s the problem.”

“What master?”

Kane closed his eyes briefly, his tone laced with regret when he responded, “Me.”


	5. Overspill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby, Echo, Emori, and Raven move forward with the plan to remove the Flame from Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Detailed medical/surgical descriptions.  
> Trig at the end.

_The mountain is steep, the ditches are deep_

_The task in hand is making us weep_

_But here's a promise I intend to keep_

_You've got a head full of trouble and a ship to build_

_You believe you won't make it, but you know you will_

_Your heart you're hiding, it's making you ill_

_Let the soulful water overspill_

_I've been to the bottom, I’ve been on the train_

_I've slept in the gutter with my head in a drain_

_I've been brutally proud, I’ve been mortally shamed_

_I’m just learning, my friends, that it's all in the game_

_And we will climb higher in time.._

\- The Waterboys, Higher in Time (Two Pianos)

Abby watched closely from the head of the table as Echo slowly drew an incision down the existing scar on the back of Lexa’s neck. Her opening technique was flawless, Abby observed appreciatively. The skin and muscle around the Flame split apart neatly as Echo applied the slightest pressure increase. She carefully continued separating the soft tissue until the face of the Flame appeared beneath the blade of the scalpel.

Echo let out a slow breath of relief, wiping her forehead against her upper arm before looking up to catch Abby’s eye with uncertainty. Though she couldn’t see Abby’s mouth below the surgical mask she wore, her eyes crinkled slightly in the corners the same way Clarke’s did when she smiled.

“Very impressive, Echo. Even better than the last time we worked together,” Abby said, carefully positioning the suction just inside the edge of the incision.

Echo ducked her head just slightly, her lips curling into an involuntary smile. Her shoulders relaxed under the reassurance in Abby’s voice and gaze. “Thank you, Abby.”

Abby inclined her head before turning to Emori, who stood ready on Lexa’s right side.

Emori drew in a slow breath as she carefully set a clamp in place that hugged the sides of the flame, stabilizing it. With her other hand, she brought an electrode slowly closer until she felt a magnetic pull. The Flame practically seemed to grip the electrode and drag it into contact, as if it had sentience of its own, yet felt nothing more than the need to be one with the electrode.

Just behind Abby, Raven’s computer gave a few short, decisive beeps and then one longer, softer tone.

“I’m in,” Raven announced, and they all let out a collective breath of relief. Her fingers flew furiously across the keyboard as endless lines of code scrolled by and populated the screen.

Abby took her eyes briefly off the monitors reading Lexa’s vitals to set them on Emori. “Well done, Emori. Between the two of you, I’m beginning to think I might be out of a job.”

Emori blushed so deeply that it stretched up her face more than half the length of the tattoo swirling over her cheek. Behind the mask, Echo reddened partway past the scar that spanned her face, and they both softly thanked Abby in unison.

The room was silent but for the whirring computer and soft, steady pulse of the ventilator.

The tip of Raven’s tongue just barely peeked out between her lips, a deep furrow forming between her brows as her eyes quickly scanned the code before her. Echo swallowed hard and forced her mind back into focus. She hated this—the waiting, the quiet, the stillness—and could do nothing about it. She wished she could slide into the console beside Raven’s and make sense of the seemingly random characters and symbols that populated the screen.

_We’ve all got jobs to do_ , Octavia whispered in her head.

 _This is yours. That one’s Raven’s._ **_Trust her._ **

It was hot as hell under the punishing bright lights of the surgical pod, and Emori couldn’t help but long for the artificially cool environment of the mountain’s surgical wing, where it had always been near frigid. It seemed whoever designed the Eligius IV hadn’t really cared how comfortable its occupants had been. Emori couldn’t help but allow her mind to wander, speculating on why a ship so large and expensive to build, would have forgone basic comforts that Mount Weather had not.

She didn’t particularly _care_ , of course. Hell, she had lived outside for most of her life, wandering the edges of _Sangedakru_ territory; trudging through miles of scalding sand with the oppressive rays of the sun pounding her body and her psyche day after day, year after year. She had once made it 4 days with nothing but a single handful of water in her system and nothing to shelter her from the scorch of the sun.

Emori was quite used to being uncomfortable, thank you very much. It was more concerning to her that warmth allowed bacteria to thrive; and since she was currently half an inch deep in the Commander’s brain, she would have preferred a temperature less sympathetic to germs, that’s all.

Raven typed furiously, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a remarkably controlled grace despite her speed. Echo wished she had taken more time to get more familiar with computers, because the screen looked like a random, meaningless mess to her. As it was, she had instead chosen to spend most of her time honing her medical skills, and so she kept her eyes glued to the monitors that sat in a semicircle around the surgical team. They all had jobs to do, and making sure Lexa’s vital signs remained stable? That was Echo’s.

“Vitals are holding,” she murmured unnecessarily. Abby and Emori’s eyes were also glued to the various screens surrounding them, watching with keen eyes for any changes.

Raven swallowed hard as she hit a final key combo and began overwriting the data on Shaw’s chip. Her voice was so quiet that only Emori caught her whispered, “ _Yu gonplei ste odon_.”

Emori glanced at Raven’s face and felt something inside soften even further towards her when she realized how much it was hurting her to erase someone—even someone she didn’t know. Raven recognized the ugliness, the sadness of such a thing; the knowledge that it was like killing him all over again. The weight on your shoulders when, in that single moment, someone’s entire existence was wiped away by your own hand, and suddenly it was like they’d never even been there in the first place.

Emori couldn’t help thinking of Ilian; how quickly the light had left his eyes as the bullet entered his brain. She pictured him, broken and bleeding and undeniably _gone_ as his lifeless body crumpled before her. She pictured herself as a child, awkward and lanky, with gangly limbs like a baby fawn, curled up in the hollow of a gnarled old oak just outside his village. She pictured him, a child still, holding a bow on her when he stumbled upon her there. He’d fed her that day; thick strips of meat with a smokey, slightly sweet flavor. She pictured him growing into the body of a man, stealing grains and fruits and once even the haunch of a boar, and bringing them to her, so that she might live.

He had begged her to join him, to live in his home and grow fat and grey with him, and Emori had never wanted anything more in her life.

But she was _Frikdreina_. Even the gentle, mystic people of _Trishanakru_ would not accept a stain on the bloodline like herself. She had lied then; the one and only time she had ever lied to the boy who saved her life and grew into the man she loved. She told him it wasn’t right for her, that try as she might, she could not find it in herself to _hod em in_ as more than a friend, a brother. What she’d really meant was that she wasn’t worth Ilian being banished, too. She had let him die without telling him she loved him, and the weight of it grew heavier in her chest the farther from that moment she got.

She had let him die believing she didn’t love him, and that was a betrayal that would surely live in that sick place inside her for the rest of her days.

♾

Somewhere in a dreamless sleep, Lexa floated weightlessly in the nothingness.

Everything was still, and empty, and there was only dark behind her unseeing eyes, and she thought, perhaps, she had died after all. She thought, perhaps, death actually _was_ the end, no matter how many times she had told Clarke otherwise. She thought she might float away forever and ever, and never feel Clarke’s hands reaching for her in the night again. Never feel Madi’s warmth pressed against her in a desperate hug. Never feel Aden’s light in her heart, hear his laugh echoing through her head as they sparred together, his shoelaces untied as always.

She soaked in the memories; they were all she had in this land of empty, in this lack of existing, in the darkest corners of her mind.

_But,_ Lexa thought to herself punchily _, is it really my mind if I have no control over it? Is it my body if I am not in it? Is it a memory if it is not mine?_

Technically, the memories never really belonged to her, though, did they? Even her own were shared—all of her darkest secrets and deepest fears were laid bare for all to see inside the mindspace. If even her memories no longer belonged to her, then what _did_ belong to her? What was left that was only _Lexa’s_ ; that was just for herself and no one else?

**The love, the love, the love… that is yours, and yours alone, _Leksa kom Trikru_ , daughter of _Teros kom Trikru_ and _Kyah kom Floukru_ , second to _Anya kom Trikru_ , _Heda_ of the 13 United Clans.**

The voice echoing through the nothingness sounded like her own; sounded like Zynbel and Rhys, like Titus. It sounded like Madi, and Aden, and Raven, Roan, and Echo. It sounded like Abby’s voice, soothing an injury. It sounded like Murphy’s voice, teasing but gentle. It sounded like Octavia’s voice, proud and firm and _brave_ —god, she was always so brave, wasn’t she? It sounded like Anya scolding her for her stubbornness as she lay, a child still, flat on her back in the dirt once again. Like Indra, comforting the girl within while bolstering the Commander. It sounded like her people, all of them, celebrating the hope she had tried so hard to inspire in them.

But most of all, it sounded like Clarke— _didn’t it always_? At once tender and strong, gentle but unyielding. Soothing the emotions that burned in her chest while fanning the flames that burned lower, in her gut. Soft, calloused hands that healed and hurt in exactly the right measures every single time.

_You found me_ , Lexa thought sleepily, as she was pulled deeper into the nothingness. This time, it was only Clarke’s voice that responded.

_I’ll always find you. Otaim, Leksa. Yu laik ain houd._

_Come find me now, Klark. Find me before I’m lost forever. Beja, niron--I need you.._

♾

“She’s tachy, o2 is dropping. Raven, you need to hurry,” Abby commanded, injecting something into Lexa’s line as a series of alarms beeped wildly.

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can,” Raven replied distractedly, all of her energies focused on the screen before her as her fingers flew over the keyboard. Sweat beaded on her brow and fell to the desk before her as Abby, Echo, and Emori worked quickly over Lexa’s prone body.

Echo watched Lexa’s vitals dropping slowly; almost like she was struggling to hold onto life as death fought to drag her into it’s murky depths. “Raven,” her lips formed plaintively. “Raven, she’s gonna crash.”

“I know!” Raven snapped, her voice breaking slightly, her tension palpable in the stuffy pod.

The machines’ beeping alerts sped up and grew louder, and Echo quickly shook off the panic bubbling deep in her gut. This wasn’t the time to freeze up; not with her family on the line once more. Her heart pounded in her own chest as she watched Lexa’s stuttering and slanting on the monitor.

Echo watched as the dips and peaks of the heart monitor shortened and Lexa’s heartbeat took on the look of a child’s scribbled drawing. Her own heart sank, and her own blood thrummed heavily throughout her body like a bass drum as she watched her rhythms grow even more erratic.

“She’s going into v-fib,” she announced. Her voice sounded strange; cold and stiff, hollow and emotionless. She watched herself pull the crash cart close and help Emori ready it quickly. “Charging to—”

“No!” Raven cried. “Wait!” They all froze, and Echo felt a deep chill starting in her veins as the monitor’s beeps grew even more aggressive. Raven slid to the side just enough for them to watch the screen. “If you do it before this finishes, you’ll blow the Flame before the backup’s completed.”

On the monitor, a thin bar indicated the Flame’s upload was at 79 percent. The progress bar wasn’t, Echo was fairly certain, actually moving all _that_ slow—but watching Lexa dying before her and having her hands tied made it seem like it was moving at a snail’s pace.

Her hands clenched at her side, her knuckles turning white as she stood by helplessly. Raven’s face was practically purple as her fingers stretched and contracted over the keyboard, likely from the same urge to _hurry up and do something_ that Echo was filled with. Abby’s lips were pressed together in a tight, narrow line, and something dark was building up behind her eyes.

Emori glanced at Echo over the crash cart—now ready to go—and then to Raven, back at the screens surrounding them, before returning to Echo’s. They exchanged a look as the bar moved to 86.

“Another of the vasopressin, Echo,” Abby said, her voice stiff and tight.

Echo, thankful to have _something_ to do, grabbed the syringe, her fingers fumbling with the line. Emori gently held up the injection port for her with a soft, worried expression on her face. Echo swallowed hard and screwed in the leur-lock syringe, slowly depressing it.

All of them—Raven included—immediately turned to the screen displaying Lexa’s heart, and watched as the peaks increased slightly. They let out a collective sigh of mild relief, and Echo and Emori shared a silent nod with each other before turning their eyes back to the monitors. Raven—seemingly as frustrated as Echo was by not having something to physically do in the moment, unconsciously shifted back and forth in her chair.

The bar was at 92 percent when Lexa went into ventricular fibrillation again, and Echo instinctively reached for another syringe of the vasopressin, but Abby’s hand slid over hers, gently holding it in place.

Echo looked up into Abby’s sorrowful gaze as she shook her head a little. “She’s had too much already. Her heart won’t be able to handle it. She’ll code, Echo.”

Echo swallowed against the impossibly hard lump in her throat as Lexa started fading once more, even more quickly. She said nothing, but looked at Abby intensely as her eyes began to water.

Abby’s voice was solemn and soft when she continued, “I’m sorry, Echo.”

Echo felt like the floor was splitting open beneath her, threatening to swallow her whole. How the hell was she supposed to just stand here, watching a stupid digital bar pushing forward at an excruciatingly slow pace? Watching Lexa dying right in front of her—again—and doing nothing? What kind of crazy person could even do that, much less do it without breaking solidly in half and being destroyed by such inaction?

They all watched helplessly as the bar climbed to 93 and Lexa fell closer to death, and Abby said quietly, “How much longer, Raven?”

Raven swallowed hard, her hands fluttering uselessly in her lap. “Another minute and a half, best guess.”

“A minute and a half?” Emori said, her voice and face growing dark. “She won’t make it, it’s too long.”

Raven looked haunted, staring at the wall with a tightly clenched jaw when she spoke. “If you fry the Flame, the data transfer will be interrupted. We can’t even begin to know how that’s going to affect her. Missing, deleted, corrupted files—she could lose her memory, the new drive could be _totally_ unusable..”

“We’re talking about possible brain damage and other question marks, or her body dying,” Emori said softly to herself, glancing back to Echo.

Echo met the other girl’s eyes and, knowing exactly what she was getting at, Echo found herself giving her a short nod of agreement. They glanced to Abby in sync, who swallowed hard at the sight of the ’94’ over the bar briefly before nodding as well.

Abby flipped a few dials on the crash cart before sliding the switch into place. Raven was staring at her own screen, as though she could mentally will the bar to move faster just by focusing on it and it alone. Abby glanced to Emori, who took a deep, steadying breath as she reached for the linked Flame, her face weighted down heavily with guilt.

Echo, unable to let the other girl take on the weight of the task alone, found herself sliding her hand over Emori’s, and she swallowed hard as their eyes met. “ _Ogeda_.”

“ _Ogeda_ ,” Emori whispered back, and held onto the clamp around the Flame as Echo tugged on the cord attached to the computer.

The computer let out an annoyed beep as it displayed a message before Raven’s horrified face.

**_Connection Error_ **

**_File Transfer Incomplete - 96%_ **

Echo’s chest felt empty but for the fire raging in it as Abby pressed the paddles to Lexa’s chest, but it did nothing to disrupt the broken rhythm of its frenetic beating. 

“Still in v-fib,” Echo murmured, feeling dazed and sick inside.Her arms felt heavy, and her head swam with dizziness and tears that could not seem to find a path to her eyes. Everything in her felt disconnected and weighted down; she was suffocating on her own breath and drowning in her own blood. Her organs turned to ash and her bones incinerated, and she was pulled apart limb from limb as she realized that Lexa was going to die.

Lexa was going to die, and it was going to be her fault.

Abby hit her again, and a series of uneven, practically confused beeps sounded before settling into a soft, regular rhythm. The world pitched sideways in her brain, and the fog inside Echo’s dry, fuzzy mouth seemed to pour out as the realization hit her that Lexa’s heart was still beating.

“Tachy, no arrhythmia ,” Abby announced with a hitch in her voice, clamping down tightly on her emotions.

Emori’s eyes closed briefly, and she let out a slow breath of relief. Just beside her, Echo did the same, but the air exited her narrowed throat shakily. Somehow, they had stopped Death once again from taking that which did not yet belong to him. Lexa was still alive.

Well.

Her _body_ was, anyway.

♾

Raven had stopped watching the time.

It might have been only a few minutes, or a few hours, before Abby finished detaching the Flame’s mesh from Lexa’s brain. Raven stared, the knot in her stomach growing tighter as Echo gently pulled the neural lace free and held it up in the forceps beneath the bright surgical light.It glinted reflectively as it turned slowly, it’s multitude of spindle legs lifeless and scorched black, before Echo dropped it into the tray.

Raven could only gaze numbly as Abby took the freshly autoclaved housing that now held the new Eligius drive, and guided the needle carefully into place. The neural lace ejected from the tip of it, sliding into the small incision easily. Emori adjusted the fluoroscope’s live X-ray screen just slightly, and they all watched with interest and fear as the neural lace slid around the interior of Lexa’s cranial cavity and slowly enshrouded her brain as the Flame once had.

After a moment, Abby quietly informed them that the drive was in place, and Raven turned back to her screen without a word. She checked the information coming through the connection with the Eligius drive, watching as the informational panels filled quickly.

She remained silent as her fingers flew across the keyboard once more, making minor adjustments and checking various things as the number 96 blinked through her mind like it was on a brightly lit sign the size of the ship they were onboard—announcing her failure and the potential fallout to anyone within miles.

Raven’s heart and head were heavy when she found the information she was searching for, and slowly rotated her chair around to face the other women—all of them waiting expectantly for her assessment. Her voice was robotic, her face blank and expressionless as she lingered just slightly adjacent to her own body.

“It’s working, but the data is corrupted,” she informed them dispassionately. 

“Tell me what that means, Raven,” Abby said gently, as Emori assisted Echo in closing the incision carefully with a neat row of stitches.

Raven lowered her eyes, her face filled with shame as she shook her head faintly at the floor and said nothing.

“Raven,” Echo said, pausing mid-stitch, her eyes and voice pleading with her for a response. “Raven, please just tell us.”

Raven finally lifted her head, her face cloaked in remorse and gaze heavy with tears held back. Her head shook once more, her shoulders lifting in a semblance of a shrug as she let the words out; words that made her feel sick and pathetic, words she hated more than anything else. Words that filled her with humiliation and disgust and guilt to speak them aloud. Her voice cracked with the weight of them as she finally responded in a brokenhearted whisper.

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGEDASLENG TRANSLATIONS (order of appearance)  
> \- gathered from the show, David J. Peterson's blog, and trigedasleng.net. Any errors in spelling, grammar, or structure are entirely mine. 
> 
> • Frikdreina - mutant  
> • hod em in - love him  
> • otaim - always  
> • yu laik ain houd - you’re my world  
> • beja, niron - please, love  
> • ogeda - together


	6. Head & Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madi and Aden explore the new world of Arkadia, having some unexpected encounters in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day? Don't mind if I do! :)

_Don't stray, don't ever go away_

_I should be much too smart for this_

_You know it gets the better of me sometimes_

_When you and I collide, I fall into an ocean of you_

_Pull me out in time, don't let me drown, let me down_

_And here I go, losing my control_

_And there's no cure and no way to be sure_

_Why everything's turned inside out, instilling so much doubt_

_It makes me so tired, I feel so uninspired_

_My head is battling with my heart, my logic has been torn apart_

_And now it all turns sour, come sweeten every afternoon_

_Say you'll stay, don't come and go like you do_

_Sway my way, yeah I need to know all about you_

\- Bic Runga, “Sway”

Arkadia was overwhelming, to say the least.

The curved metal ship—the one Raven told her used to be attached to her real home, the Ring, once upon a time—arced into the sky. It was a jarring contrast framed against the backdrop of trees and nature; a lake, and even some mountains off in the distance.

Aden’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder as he took it in with her, allowing himself only a moment to mourn the bustling market and skyward-stretching tower of Polis. It wasn’t much of a loss, he thought to himself, when Madi was never there; when his family hadn’t ever been there, together. He couldn’t think of it as a home of his, not anymore. It was sad, but only in the way stumbling on a dead sparrow might be; the kind of thing that made you say to yourself, “That’s unfortunate” before continuing on with your day.

There were a lot of people in Arkadia, and they all rushed busily from one point to another; tending gardens, running some kind of rigged up piping from the center out into the most distant reaches of large swaths of crops, and even—

Madi gasped, watching a girl about her age who was approaching them. Her skin was fair, a smattering of freckles cast across her nose and rosy cheeks. Her hair was wild like Madi’s own, curling past her shoulders in a cascade of tendrils that were loosely bound with a length of hand braided twine. It hung in her face, partially covering one wide, blue eye as she paused before them.

But it wasn’t her hair, or the slight glaze of her partially hidden eye that Madi noticed first; nor was it her freckles, or her sun-tinted cheeks or strong arms, with muscle and tendon flexing in the light. It was the massive, beautiful white horse that she sat on that grabbed Madi’s attention, and she couldn’t help a soft gasp when the beautiful beast shook its head, its pale mane flashing in the sunlight.

The girl was looking right at her, her face furrowed with suspicion and curiosity. The intensity of her gaze and the way it softened when Bellamy joined them made something in Madi’s chest feel warm, and she bit her lip uncomfortably.

“ _Bellomi! Monin hou!_ ” The girl’s face lit up when she saw her leader unharmed.

“ _Mochof_ , Reese!” He rubbed the horse’s chin affectionately. “I see you kept the place running while I was gone.”

“ _Bellomi_ , we didn’t know if you were coming back, and then the ship approached, and we—uh..” She trailed off, shrugging a little.

Bellamy sighed and briefly pressed his forehead against the horse’s muzzle. “Indra’s in the woods with an army already, isn’t she?”

Reese nodded. “Should I tell everyone to get back to work or training?”

“No. No, that’s okay, Reese. I’ll take care of it. Listen, there’s some more people on the ship—er, a lot of them, actually. Including Abby.”

Reese looked troubled at this, and turned slightly towards the horizon—the direction they’d come from, the direction New Polis lay in—and Madi’s eyes widened slightly as she saw the sword strapped to her back that she hadn’t noticed before. The girl was a _warrior_. Just like her.

“Can you show Madi and Aden here to some empty quarters? I think there are some rooms left on the western side, and we’re going to need a few more, probably.”

“Of course.” Reese nodded and turned her horse a bit so she could bow her head to Bellamy before he headed towards the tree line, where Indra and other warriors were likely crouched.

Quarters? Madi realized she hadn’t really thought about where they would _stay_ down here. Most of what had been here before _Praimfiya_ was gone now. Certainly, she wouldn’t be living under anyone’s floor again, but somehow it had escaped her that her family was, in a sense and for the moment, homeless in a way. People without a clan, without a place to rest their heads. People without people or somewhere to call their own.

“Aden? Oh my gosh, Aden!” A female voice, growing loud with excitement, rang out just before a willowy figure tossed itself at Aden, hugging him tightly. Aden’s eyes widened as he stood there awkwardly, letting the girl hold onto him and looking at Madi, seemingly for help.

“I—uh, you know me?” He asked, shrugging a little at Madi, a confused look on his face.

The girl pulled back and laughed, shaking a long, dark braid down her back. “Aden, you _branwoda_. It’s me! Mika!”

Aden’s eyes went wide and round, and his face flushed quickly, his cheeks burning red. “Mika? Oh, wow. Wow, you’re—uh, you’re really… tall now,” he finished lamely.

Madi just shook her head at him and—out of Mika’s line of sight, but well within Reese’s—she gave him a thumbs down. Reese smirked lightly at the gesture from atop her horse.

“Me? Look at you! You’re practically a head above the forest already. Are you sure you’re not _kom Trigedakru_ after all?”

Aden laughed a little too loudly, clearly nervous, as Madi rolled her eyes and stepped forward, extending her arm. “I’m Madi, Aden’s sister.”

Mika smiled and gripped Madi’s forearm, shaking lightly. “I’m Mika. Aden and I were in _Heda Leksa_ ’s novitiate class together, once upon a time.”

Madi looked a bit stunned. She didn’t know what she’d thought had happened to the other _natblidas_ that Aden had grown up with. Truthfully, she had made an effort _not_ to think about it. He never spoke of them, and when she’d seen Gaia, and the state of _Wonkru_ , she had tried even harder to push the wonderings from her mind; certainly nothing good could have happened to any of them, that much was for sure.

Aden’s smile fell just slightly. “Are the others..?”

Mika bit her lower lip, avoiding his gaze. “Only a few. Sayen, Takami, and Arvid are here. The others..” Her dark eyes were incredibly sad, Madi could see that very clearly now. She was haunted, and frankly, Madi understood the feeling.

Aden looked crushed, and he glanced at Madi, a lump in his throat. Madi, understanding, nodded and touched his arm lightly. “Why don’t you and Mika catch up, and I’ll go see about getting us some beds. Really far from each other, so I don’t have to live with the smell of your feet,” she added, but with a playful smile, so Aden would know she was kidding.

“ _Mochof_ ,” he whispered with a weak smile, squeezing her hand before following Mika to a small area with a few tables on the edge of the gated area.

Madi turned to Reese, her mouth going a bit dry when playful, piercing blue eyes found hers. “Looks like it’s just me and you, _skaiprisa_ ,” she said, but her voice was gently teasing—maybe even a hint of flirtation?—and Madi found herself vaguely lightheaded by all the new information she’d just absorbed and the penetrating gaze of the girl in front of her.

Reese leaned forward a little, her face growing concerned. “Are you okay? I was.. just teasing you. I came from the sky, too. I was born there, actually.”

Madi’s head popped up at this. “Y-you came down with Clarke?”

This girl had grown up on the Ark when it was still the Ark? She’d grown up in the same place Madi herself had. But not, Madi quickly realized, the same world she’d grown up in.

“Clarke Griffin?” Reese said, sliding easily off her horse, her fingers twirling strands of its mane lightly. “No, I came down after the hundred, on Farm Station.”

“Oh.” Madi said dumbly, quietly annoyed with herself for feeling so awkward around this girl who seemed so at ease around her.

Then again, Madi had grown up very nearly alone, and up until recently hadn’t been around more than a handful of other people at a time. Everything on the ground was overwhelming, especially the sheer amount of people she suddenly found herself surrounded by.

“Is your family here, too?”

Reese’s jaw set and she turned her eyes to her horse, stroking its mane lovingly, her voice a bit tighter than before.

“No. No, my father was..” She paused, her chest puffing out with pride. “He volunteered for the culling. My adoptive mother, Miss Lucy, was killed by _Azgeda_ scouts soon after we landed.”

“The culling?” Madi asked, her brow furrowing. She’d heard an awful lot of stories about both the ground and the sky, but this was a new word for her. Reese’s eyes flashed just a bit, and for a split second, Madi saw a world of pain lurking behind them that made her feel closer to the girl almost instantly.

“We were running out of air on the Ark. I was losing my sight because of it. My father and 300 other brave souls volunteered to sacrifice themselves; to give the rest of us more time and air.”

Madi nodded slowly, trying to push thoughts of her own parents from her head; the way they too, had sacrificed themselves to protect herself and Aden. She tried not to think of Lexa and Clarke, either, but she sensed her pain was laid bare on her face despite her best efforts, just from the way Reese now regarded her.

“You understand, though. Don’t you?” She said softly, and Madi nodded. She rested her hand on Madi’s shoulder, in a comforting gesture, and Madi surprised herself by not shrinking back from the unfamiliar touch.

“You got your sight back, though?” Madi said lamely. Reese smiled at her, her nose crinkling a bit in a way that made something in Madi’s stomach unfurl and begin fluttering in a not-entirely-unpleasant way.

“Not all of it,” she said, pushing her hair aside to reveal her slightly clouded right eye. “This one’s still no good, but I’ve managed without it this long.”

She smiled, almost proudly, and Madi felt the strangest urge to reach out and touch her cheek, as though she had some need to comfort and reassure this girl who did not seem to need either of those things in the least. The feeling joined the flutter and together they pressed in on Madi’s chest, making her feel claustrophobic. She quickly linked her hands behind her back and straightened her posture, as though she feared she couldn’t fight the urge otherwise.

Reese just looked at her with a vaguely bemused confidence, as if she was aware of Madi’s strange, unnecessary urge. “It’s okay. I know it looks really weird, but it’s just an eye. A useless one, but it’s never stopped me before.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t,” Madi said, surprising herself with the soft tone to her own voice. She felt that strange, warm feeling in her chest again. Her cheeks flushed when Reese smirked lightly, like she knew exactly what was going on, even though Madi herself hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

“Well,” Reese said—and did Madi catch a brief wink beneath layers of hair and an unseeing glaze?—“Let’s go find someplace for your family to stay. How many people do you have?”

“Ten.”

“Big family,” Reese commented, stroking her hand over her horse’s back gently before beginning to lead the beautiful creature towards their stables.

Madi followed quietly and began to nod, then stopped short when she remembered.

“Actually.. eight. There’s.. there’s only eight of us right now.” Her voice sounded like a little girl’s voice, and her cheeks flushed with shame. “My m.. my moms aren’t here. Well, one of them is, but she’s..” Madi paused, and Reese waited patiently, all of her attention focused on Madi as she stumbled over her words. “Sick. So I guess.. yeah. Eight beds.”

“Is that why Abby is here? To help your mom?” Reese asked, rummaging in the sack she carried at her side.

“Yeah. They’re going to do surgery, or something, there on the ship,” Madi mumbled, lowering her eyes. “And my other mom is.. she’s still in New Polis.”

_What was going on?_ Madi couldn’t help thinking to herself. She didn’t know this girl from _Sheidheda_ , and she hadn’t had a moment’s hesitation before spilling her ugly, sad little truths out to the total stranger.

Reese studied her quietly, reaching out and touching her shoulder lightly.

“I’m sorry. Abby is a wonderful doctor, though. If anyone can help your mom, I’m sure it’s her.” Reese gave her a soft smile. “She was the one who helped save my good eye.”

Madi nodded a bit, biting her lower lip as Reese found what she was looking for in her bag. She offered the apple to her horse, who took it from her hand with a gentleness that stunned Madi. Like the horse understood it could harm the girl and was carefully aware of its actions as a result.

Reese watched Madi staring as though in a trance for a moment.

“Have you ever seen a horse before?”

“Only once,” Madi’s voice was soft and had a clear tone of wonder in it. “When I was very small, right before _Praimfiya_. My brother and two more of our clan came to rescue me. I rode on Helios while we escaped the black rain.”

Reese smiled a very wide smile and her good eye glittered with mischief. “You know, we can sort out beds for your family later, if that’s okay. I think I have something you’d like to see even more here in Arkadia.”

Madi chewed on the idea for a moment. She probably _should_ go get their rooms sorted out. It would be dark soon, and everyone would be very tired. But the expression on Reese’s face, the glint in her eye, and the soft huffing of the beautiful beast before her was quickly wearing down her sense of duty.

“This beautiful girl, Drífa, isn’t the only horse we have here in Arkadia. She’s got a few friends, too,” Reese continued, her voice laced with temptation.

Madi began to smile slowly. “Drífa?”

Reese nodded, running her hand down the long graceful neck of the animal. “It’s an old Norse name. It means snow flurry.” Her voice turned gentle as Drífa nuzzled her gently. “We found each other in one. When Farm Station landed, there was snow everywhere. Me and the other kids, we’d never seen it before, and we ran out. All of us. We were in _Azgeda_ territory—we didn’t know it then, of course, and they attacked. They were killing everyone, all the kids. Th-there was blood, everywhere, and screaming, and I could hardly even see to begin with.”

Instinctively, Madi reached out and touched her hand to Reese’s shoulder comfortingly, surprising herself. Reese seemed to relax slightly, though, and she continued quietly.

“I just ran. I was afraid, and I ran, and I got lost. It got dark, and I couldn’t find my way back to the ship. I didn’t even know if anyone else was alive, or if the killers were waiting there still..” She swallowed hard, clearing her throat. “I just kept running and hiding and getting more lost. Two days passed, and I had.. started to give up. I knew I would die out there—blind, and alone, hungry and cold and afraid. And then I saw this flash of white in the woods, this big blur that was glowing in the moonlight, that stood out from the falling snow. I thought it was going to attack me, but it was just this beautiful goofball here—still a colt, wandering around by herself in the middle of nowhere.”

Madi regarded the girl with a soft gaze. “You saved each other?”

“For the first time,” Reese confirmed, with an affectionate nod towards Drífa. “We’ve saved each other a lot since.”

Madi finally smiled—a real smile, one that came from deep inside her heart and filled her lips corner to corner—and tentatively touched Drífa’s forehead, rubbing it gently. “I would love to see where Drífa lives and meet her friends.”

“Awesome,” Reese’s face lit up, and she took Madi’s hand in hers as though it were the most natural thing in the world for Reese. With Drífa’s lead in her other hand, they began walking away from the center of Arkadia. Madi felt her cheeks grow warm, but she didn’t pull away from Reese, despite everything inside telling her that’s exactly what she should do.

For the first time in—god, she couldn’t even remember how long—Madi shoved her brain into a metaphorical closet and slammed the door shut. For the first time, Madi ignored the warrior inside warning against everything about her current situation, and let the soft fluttering things in her chest continue to gently swarm there.

It felt strangely natural to her, too.

Reese glanced at her as they walked hand-in-hand, her brow just slightly furrowing. Something had been rolling around inside her head that suddenly seemed to click itself into place. Something that was so highly unlikely that it was very nearly impossible.

“Did you say the horse you met before _Praimfiya_ was named Helios?”


	7. Hellbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane hides Clarke in Arkadia, and they wrestle with their respective demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: alcoholism

_I want to hide the truth, I want to shelter you_

_But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide_

_Don't want to let you down but I am hell bound_

_Though this is all for you, don't want to hide the truth_

_They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate_

_I can't escape this now unless you show me how_

_When you feel my heat, look into my eyes_

_It's where my demons hide - d_ _on't get too close,_

_It’s dark inside, i_ _t's where my demons hide_

\- Imagine Dragons, “Demons”

Clarke followed Kane into the home he now shared with Abby. It was a true house, restored to something vaguely resembling a building from the old world, and lushly decorated with tapestries and dark, rich colors with golden accents. It was set back from New Polis proper; nearly a twenty minute walk away.

“Afraid to sleep too close to the fighting pits?” Clarke said dryly, as Kane closed and bolted the door behind them. Kane just looked at her with a warning glance. Clarke lifted her hands just slightly in surrender.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Clarke. I know this all likely comes as a shock to you. A lot has changed.”

Clarke’s eyebrows lifted somewhat and she let out a long, slow breath of air she hadn’t been aware she was holding in. “I kinda noticed. What the hell happened here?”

Kane removed his jacket and hung it on a hook, then made his way to a sideboard made of a smooth, richly stained wood. He lifted a beautiful glass decanter with a golden-brown liquid in it, and pulled the stopper out.

“It’s complicated,” he responded, pouring them each a glass.

The scent hit Clarke’s nostrils immediately, and her head swam. It was alcohol; perhaps scotch, she thought, and judging from the grainy, woodsy smell, it was quite old and of a very high quality. Kane held one of the glasses to her, and Clarke swallowed hard as she looked at it with a tightening in her gut. Kane, sensing something was off, set the glass aside and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Clarke. You’ll forgive me the need to have a less-than-clear head at the moment, I hope. I find it makes it easier to make the hard choices if there’s a certain amount of.. numbness involved. Can I get you something else? There’s water, of course. Apple cider, a sweet berry drink that I’m still not su—

Clarke’s eyes, however, were still locked on the glass, and it took her a moment to realize it was her own voice that was replying with, “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just.. surprised. That you have access to scotch.”

_It’s fine?_ Clarke shouted at herself internally. _Are you serious right now?_

“The leadership of Mount Weather had quite a supply, which I inherited.”

Kane gave her a small, agreeable smile, as he handed the glass to her once more.She took it with a forced smile, mentally gagging the voice in her head—which, annoyingly, sounded an awful lot like Octavia. It was just one little drink, after all. One drink never hurt anyone, she reasoned as she lifted her glass and tilted it towards Kane just slightly. Surely she deserved it after all that had happened recently, too.

“Here’s to a certain amount of numbness.”

Kane didn’t smile back, but he lifted his glass and touched it lightly to hers.

Clarke lifted the glass to her lips and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head when the first drops of the dry, earthy liquid flowed over her tongue. This was light years away from the bitter, slightly sour and fruity sting of the moonshine that had come from Monty’s still; galaxies from the few preserved bottles of alcohol she’d encountered from the old world. It was like sipping on liquid pleasure by comparison.

She sipped slowly, savoring the faint bite on her tongue, but had finished the reasonably small amount in her glass before she even realized it. She glanced unsurely at Kane, who had been momentarily distracted by a painting on the wall—a particularly haunting and eerie one, if you asked Clarke—and seemed to snap out of it under her gaze.

He glanced at the glass and stepped aside, gesturing to the decanter. “Please. I imagine it’s been some time since you’ve had a drink, and far less time since you needed one. Help yourself.”

_I’m helping you_ , Octavia’s voice taunted in her head. You ruined everything.

_This place is a tomb_ , Roan chimed in.

_I_ ** _hate_** _you, Clarke_ , came Madi’s as well, in a near perfect cadence.

_You ruined everything_ , they chorused.

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled warmly as she did so, letting the warm, leathery taste silence her demons for the moment. It was a few sips, not a few jars.

Really, how much harm could it do?

♾

**Mount Weather: Six Months After Praimfiya**

“Not now, Indra.”

Indra’s eyes narrowed as she ignored Kane’s half-hearted directive. She shut the door to his quarters behind her, and perhaps a little bit harder than was likely necessary.

“I’m sorry, Chancellor. But it must be now, and you know that.” Kane rubbed his face wearily, and Indra continued without waiting for a response. “You gave the order? That’s not misinformation, it came from you?”

“Yes, I gave the order. And you will follow it, Indra, because I am the Chancellor.”

Indra scoffed, completely unimpressed by his posturing. “You don’t frighten me, Kane. I know you too well for these power games to work on me.”

She paused, taking in his stance; the hang of his head, the tired gaze in his eyes, the defeat in his shoulders. For the first time Indra could remember, Kane looked very small and out of place in his seat behind the president’s desk, in his seat of power.

“Or maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. The Kane I knew sought peace. Wanted to save lives, not take them.” Kane lifted his head then, his gaze meeting hers, and she added quietly, “It’s not too late to change your directive.”

“It is too late for all kinds of things, Indra,” he responded quietly, standing from his chair. “It’s the nature of the world.”

He made his way to a cabinet and poured two glasses of an incredibly old scotch, and handed one to her. Indra took it, but set it on his desk as he sipped his.

“It is too late for a great many things,” she agreed. “But it is not too late for you to uphold the law. Lexa’s law. She tried to show us a better way. Lexa chose mercy; why can’t you?”

“Lexa isn’t here,” Kane snapped, surprising even himself with the bitterness that was clearly present in his tone, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “And I’m not nearly as favored as she was. We can’t afford mercy.”

“No, Lexa isn’t here,” Indra agreed, folding her arms across her chest and fixing him with a measured look. “But do you think she would make the same choice if she were? Do you think most of us would? That we would choose _jus drein jus daun_ —choose Nia’s way, _Sheidheda’s_ way, over _Heda Leksa’s_ way?”

Kane took another sip of his scotch, his eyes finding the Blake painting on the wall as he considered her question. He was quiet for a moment, and then another. Indra ran her fingertip lightly around the rim of her glass, but let it remain on the desk, otherwise untouched, as she patiently waited for what would—as always—be a measured response from her leader.

The silence lingered for a long time before Kane’s gaze met hers once more.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I truly don’t know the answer to that.”

Indra’s voice grew heavy with the weight of his confession; of his lack of belief in the last vestiges of the human race. “Where is your faith, Chancellor?”

Kane’s answer came more quickly this time, though still in the same measured, even tone. “I had to leave it above-ground, Indra. Faith doesn’t change things; action does.”

“Yes,” she agreed, studying him as he restlessly paced the room. “But _what_ actions you choose to take matters. You know that. You took the brand of her coalition, Kane. You swore your loyalty and agreed to follow her. When _ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_ was issued, you gave it your support. You told us before we closed the bunker door that _all_ life is precious. Do you no longer believe that?”

Kane balked internally when Indra used his own words, his own beliefs, to make her point. She was putting cracks in his armor, splitting open his hard outer shell and his carefully constructed facade, and he knew it, and part of him resented her for it. He set his glass down, standing quietly and facing the painting.

This time, the silence of his internal struggle stretched on far longer; so long, in fact, that Indra ran out of what minimal amount of patience she had within her in the first place. But when she drew his attention once more, it was in a gentle, sympathetic tone.

“Marcus..”

“Enough!” Kane startled both of them when he slammed his open palms down on the surface of the desk, rattling a tin of writing utensils on it. His jaw was set, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice, but his tone was terse and had an underlying darkness in it that felt unfamiliar and concerning, even to himself.

“That was a different time. We have no Commander.” He stood straight once more, shaking his head a bit as his tone softened to a harsh sort of self-deprecation. “There's only me. And I don't see any other options. Not where we survive the next five years down here.”

Indra watched his internal struggle against himself, and she empathized far more than he likely realized. She too, had fought a similar battle involving her own demons; her own upbringing and training, her own flawed beliefs and the guilt that lay heavy and deep inside her soul. She had feared that Lexa would be killed for _ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_. She had feared all of their people would die at the hand of _Audaskai_ or _Azgeda_ because of it.

Mostly she had feared that peace had a price, and it would still be paid for in blood.

“An honorable battle,” she finally said, picking up her glass and running her thumb over the rim, “Is one where each side gave their best, regardless of how it turned out. You can lose the battle and still have an honorable death. Or you can win the battle, but shame yourself and your clan.”

Kane’s steely gaze met hers with a dangerous challenge as she took her first sip of the scotch.

“What are you getting at? You want me to answer _Audaskai’s_ violence at the hydrofarm with _nothing_? Lock them up and have more mouths to feed, more tension, than ever?” Kane was ramping up, his voice growing louder and hands gesticulating as he made his argument to Indra and, she presumed, likely to himself as well.

“We should risk our _entire_ future to give these people another chance, and another, and another? We should do it in a seriously misguided attempt to keep peace among people who never _wanted_ peace in the first place?”

He snapped the last sentence, and Indra slowly lowered the glass in her hand, setting it silently back onto his desk. She took a step closer to him, her gaze meeting his fearlessly as they stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye. Her voice was evenly modulated and there was a very quiet challenge in it as she spoke.

“Are you an honorable man, Marcus Kane? Because those are the same question. You ask if our lives are worth it, if the human race is worth gambling on. You used to think the answer was yes, and so did I.” Kane stood very still, his eyes fixed and unblinking, and muscles tensed as he heard her out. “Lexa thought so, too. And I think we both know what she would do.”

Kane didn’t argue that point; there was nothing to be gained by doing so, and they both knew it. His face grew suddenly weary, and his voice dropped into the range of a quiet sense of desperation as he replied very softly.

“I’m not Lexa.”

“You don’t have to prove that to everyone by doing this,” Indra implored. She sensed the chinks in his armor were uncomfortably close to shattering, and so she pressed against them harder, unapologetically. Her tone was sharp, but not unkind; rather it came out like a warning.

“You can’t imagine what you’ll set into motion if you go down that road and take their lives as payment for their crimes.”

Kane faltered for a moment, and everything inside him wanted to cling to her words and believe them. He wanted to rescind his directive; wanted to hold on tightly to who he was and who he wanted to be; who he wanted their people to be, and what he knew their people were capable of.

Then again, that was the entire point, wasn’t it? He did, in fact, know what their people were capable of. The good and the bad; the ugly and the obscene. They were capable of a great many wonderful things—innovation and empathy and love and compassion. Strength and decency, kindness and hope.But they were also capable of pain and destruction. Hatred and injustice. Violence. Cruelty. They were capable of torture, and murder, and ending the world. They were capable of exterminating each other and themselves, and he simply couldn’t let that happen.

Indra knew it the moment she saw Kane’s jaw clench and set into place; the battle was lost. His eyes closed briefly, and then lingered on the painting once more before turning back to Indra with a forced and unfamiliar chill in his gaze.

“There is no other road available,” he replied quietly. “The decision is made, Indra. Please take the remaining _Audaskai_ traitors to holding. They can await their punishments there.”

Indra stared him down, disappointment and a sort of darkness in both gaze and voice. “You mean await their executions.”

Kane stood straight, his face emotionless as he regarded her.

“That will be all.”

♾

Clarke hadn’t intended to drink much; just enough to dull the knife edge of her feelings. Quiet the voices in her head a bit; give her more focus, so she could figure out a plan. Knowing her body as she did, Clarke felt confident that she would recognize the line between easing pain and burying it when she happened upon it.

So she wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t seen the line, but she did know she had crossed it and likely some time ago. Probably before she and Kane had, somehow, wound up sitting on the floor with the entire decanter set, each with a fur wrapped around them.

Her first indicator she might have passed that point was that she couldn’t remember how she and Kane had happened onto their current topic—Jake Griffin.

“Remember..” Clarke started, already choking on laughter. “Remember those ugly socks he always had? With the little, you know..” She motioned exaggeratedly, drawing a diamond in the air with her fingers as she giggled. “Those things? The ones that go like this. The whole sock!”

Kane had helped himself to more than a few glasses as they’d caught each other up on the past six and a half years as well, and he was currently laughing nearly as hard as Clarke herself.

“Argyle! It’s called argyle. He had those hideous sweater vests with the same pattern, too. I once said to him—I said, Jake. Jake, you dress like a couch fr-o-om the o-old world—” Kane cut himself off, stuttering on his seemingly hilarious words as he laughed harder.

Clarke let out a guffaw, slapping her palm on her thigh. “That’s so true! I mean—god, he really did, he dressed like a couch. That’s the best way to describe it, an old.. man-couch. My mom hated it, you know? Complained that he could make some effort once in awhile.”

Kane chuckled, trying to refill his glass and watching as some of the liquid sloshed over the side of the cup. “Oops..”

“Don’t waste it!” Clarke cried, sliding to the floor and cupping her hands under the glass as if she could capture the drops that had already hit the floor.

“Pffsh,” Kane scoffed, waving her off. “It’s okay, I have plenty more. There’s a whole basement full of it still.”

“You have a basement? That is _so_ cool!” Clarke asked, her mission to save the scotch forgotten as her eyes widened. She leaned in a little closer to Kane, her palm pressed to the floor for balance. She lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing around for potential eavesdroppers and spies before continuing, her gaze intensifying. “What the hell is a basement?”

She and Kane held each other’s gaze steadily for a moment before they both burst into hysterics. Clarke fell over, still wrapped in the fur, and she lay with her cheek pressed to the floor, laughing harder than she ever had in her life. She laughed until her belly ached and her throat was raw and tears streamed down her cheeks. Kane remained sitting upright, a wide, relaxed smile on his face as he shook his head, chuckling at her antics.

It took several minutes for Clarke to calm down enough to catch her breath, and she lay there on the floor, curled in the soft fur, her heart pounding frenetically and her face nearly purple with exertion. Her laughter grew softer and finally tapered off with a few sighs and hiccups. She lay there, breathing quietly, a dreamy smile on her face as she looked at the painting Kane had seemed so enamored with earlier.

“What is that, anyway?” She asked, pointing at it. “It’s creepy. I mean, I like it, but I don’t know if I’d wanna look at it all the time.”

Kane’s voice and face both grew somewhat somber, and he took a halfhearted sip of from his glass, swallowing it. He lifted his index finger off the glass to point to the painting.

“It’s a depiction of hell. The fifth circle of it, specifically. Where sinners guilty of wrath are cast.”

Clarke squinted at the painting and then glanced back to Kane, her lips slowly starting to spread into a bemused smile.

“Oh, my god. That is so.. _so_ corny,” she announced, a soft hiss of a chuckle escaping between her teeth as her tongue pressed behind them. Kane looked at her somberly for a moment, and Clarke’s smile started to fade a bit—right up until he cracked up again.

“It’s just so on the nose,” he pronounced, laughing into his glass. “I mean, the leader of Mount Weather was _named_ Dante, and here I am, staring at his painting of Dante’s Inferno day after day.. Just waiting for my turn to be cast there..”

Clarke chuckled softly, but there was something heavily that tugged at her from deep inside; a hollow, desperate, and sharp prodding sort of feeling. She slowly pushed herself up until she was seated, her head slightly tilted as she stared intently at the painting.

“The fifth circle? You said it was for wrath?”

Kane nodded, his eyes trained inside his glass with a sad smile on his lips. “Wrath and sullenness.”

Clarke glanced back at him. “What does that mean? Sullenness?”

Kane cleared his throat, swirling the liquid in his glass slowly. “Wrath is anger—extreme anger that’s expressed outwardly, like vengeance. Sullenness is more.. internal. Anger you hold onto, a poor temperament. Those who had no appreciation for the earth, for the beauty and goodness in life they’ve been granted.”

He slowly took a sip from the glass, his voice growing softer as he continued. “Their souls were cast into an eternity of torment and fighting. As punishment.”

Clarke’s eyes grew haunted as she studied the lost souls in the painting, swirling around each other and heavy with rage. Souls drowning forever in their own darkness; remanded to the eternal midnight of the marsh of Styx, to pay for their crimes. Like the fighting pits.

“ _Jus drein, jus daun_ ,” Clarke whispered unsteadily, losing herself in the painting. She suddenly understood what it was, exactly, that Kane saw in it, because she now saw it as well. The painting was at once a mirror and warning; a reminder and, in some strange way, an inspiration. “I bear it, so they don’t have to.”

“Yes, we do,” Kane said, knocking back the last sip of his scotch before rolling the glass anxiously in his palm. “When you were in school on the Ark, did you read _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , Clarke?”

Clarke shook her head just slightly. “Only a few pages. We had just started it when..” She trailed off, and let the words hang in the air, unspoken.

At least, until Kane replied, “When Thelonious and I had you and your father arrested.”

Clarke didn’t respond; she didn’t need to. Kane lowered his eyes, still moving the glass idly between his hands for a moment, before he continued.

“Alexandre Dumas wrote, ‘ _Farewell to kindness, humanity, and gratitude. Farewell to all sentiments that gladden the heart. I have substituted myself for Providence in rewarding the good; may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked._ ’ His character, Dantès, had done many good deeds up until that point. In preparing to assume the role of Count of Monte Cristo, he is readying to exact his vengeance upon his enemies. He had to, essentially, allow any goodness that existed within him, to be destroyed. To make room for his wrath.”

Clarke swallowed hard, staring intently at the painting as Kane finished up, a sick, heavy feeling boiling deep inside her chest. She felt nauseated, and even in her current drunken, easily-swayed state, she could not try to convince herself it was from the alcohol.

“I am become death,” she whispered, shuddering internally. "Destroyer of worlds."

Kane tilted his gaze towards her, watching her bright eyes as her chin inclined toward the damnable painting. He watched her for a moment before speaking again.

“You look like Jake, Clarke; I’m sure you’re aware of that already. But your heart? The way you carry the crushing weight of it all around with you, just beneath the surface.. How it makes you question and doubt yourself, how you search so hard for the light when you’re surrounded by darkness.” He gave a loaded sigh, as though the mere words were weighing on him as well, and his voice was slightly choked when he continued, “It reminds me so very much of your mother.”

Clarke slowly lowered her eyes to meet his, the hint of tears rimming clear blue.

“There were records on the Ring. Old newspapers, speeches. I read something once, by this pastor from before. He said that.. That people going to heaven are receiving a blessing they didn’t really earn, but those going to Hell paid their way to get there.”

She was quiet for a beat, and Kane held steady, giving her the time to mull her thoughts over. Her expression grew sad and frightened, and for the first time since her father’s arrest, she looked every bit like the child she really was.

“Do you think that’s true?” She asked quietly, her tone laced with fear and worry.

Kane sat for a long while in the silence between them, as they both turned back to the haunting picture on the wall. They waited in stasis together, each hoping for his next words to be ones of reassurance, or at least clarity or understanding. She craved wisdom, sought his advice in so many words, and it took some time for him to realize that what she truly sought from him was a lie that he simply couldn’t find it within himself to give to her.

He rapidly became full of regret and despair that he could not honestly release this young girl from the weight of her choices because they were, in a symbiotic sort of way, not dissimilar to his own choices. He fixed her with a sorrowful gaze when he finally answered.

“I think, in the end, we all get exactly what we have earned.”

_“Those who go to Heaven ride on a pass and enter into blessings  
that they never earned, but all who go to hell pay their own way.”_

\- **John R. Rice**

"The Circle of the Lustful: Francesca da Rimini", William Blake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References/Sources:
> 
> • "The Divine Comedy" by Dante Alighieri, 1320
> 
> • “The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alexandre Dumas, 1844
> 
> • Evangelist John R. Rice, founder of “Sword of the Lord”
> 
> • William Blake painting, “The Circle of the Lustful: Francesca da Rimini” (‘The Whirlwind of Lovers’), 1826 - via https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/william-blake-39/blake-illustrations-dante


	8. Long Way Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translations are inline for this chapter, for clarity's sake.

_If you love somebody, better tell them while they're here  
_ _‘Cause they just may run away from you, you'll never know quite when  
_ _Well then again, it just depends on how long of time is left for you  
_ _I've had the highest mountains, I’ve had the deepest rivers  
_ _You can have it all, but life keeps moving  
_ _I've tried to cut these corners, try to take the easy way out  
_ _I kept on falling short of something  
_ _I coulda gave up then, but then again I couldn't have  
_ _‘Cause I've traveled all this way for something  
_ _I take it in but don't look down  
_ _And I know it's hard when you're falling down  
_ _And it's a long way up when you hit the ground  
_ _Get up now, get up, get up now, ’cause I'm on top of the world  
_ _Waiting on this for a while now, paying my dues to the dirt  
_ _I've been waiting to smile, been holding it in for a while  
_ _Take you with me if I can, been dreaming of this since a child_

\- Imagine Dragons, “On Top of the World”

When Lexa opened her eyes, she found herself looking into Raven’s tearstained face, tired and taut with stress. Her jaw was clenched, and she was engrossed in the tablet she held. Dark circles framed troubled eyes, the last vestiges of tears she would likely deny still clinging delicately to her eyelashes.

It hurt Lexa’s heart to watch the girl be in so much pain, this girl who had saved them all time and time again; the one they inevitably turned to as part of a solution for any crisis. It was harder still to know that Raven carried the weight of all of it on her shoulders, and that—in that disproportionate way brains had of attacking you from within—a single failure was a much heavier burden to carry than any amount of success could ever relieve.

Lexa knew a thing or two about that herself, after all. It had always been harder for her to lay her head down after a success that had a body count—and unfortunately, so many of them generally did. But Raven? Raven had done so well, so many times. She’d literally saved the entire human race; surely she could see that? But truth be told, focusing on the positive had always been a challenge for Lexa, too. Counting the wins often felt empty and cold in light of the losses.

“Please be okay,” Raven’s voice was hoarse and weary as she pleaded with the stuffy air, with the Earth, with the universe itself. The alternative was unimaginable, and yet Raven couldn’t seem to stop imagining the possibilities anyway. In fact, it was all she’d been able to think of since the moment the computer pinged at her, informing her emotionlessly of their failure.

Lexa reached out towards her. Her arm felt heavy, like she was trying to lift a mountain up with nothing on her side but hope and determination. She pushed against it anyway, more concerned with Raven and the quiet tears on her cheeks than anything else at the moment. Gently, she touched Raven’s forearm, and Raven startled at the sudden, unexpected sensation. Her head snapped up to look at Lexa, who forced her tired lips to curve upwards into a tired smile.

“Don’t cry,” she said softly, brushing her fingertips against the inside of Raven’s wrist comfortingly. “It’s okay.”

“Lexa?” Raven just stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide and watering once more, disbelief stretched across her face.

“Who else would I be?” A soft chuckle made its way out her throat as Lexa smiled tiredly, tapping Raven’s wrist gently. “Well, perhaps _Bekka_. Or _Sheidheda_. But I do not think I am them..”

Raven—in a stunning move that went against all of her knowledge, respect, and love of tech—dropped the tablet to the floor and practically dove on top of Lexa. She wrapped her arms around her, laughing through tears that had begun falling freely down her cheeks. Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise, and it took her a moment to coordinate her arms enough to wrap them around the other girl, patting her back comfortingly.

“It’s okay,” she assured Raven, although truthfully she had no idea _what_ was okay.

“I thought I killed you,” Raven mumbled into the thick sheet of her hair.

“I do not believe I am dead,” Lexa said good-naturedly; but then frowned and tilted her head to look at Raven, worry lining her brow. “Am I?”

“That’s definitely the painkillers talking.” Raven, despite herself, laughed softly as she lifted her head, wiping tears off her cheekbones as she shook her head a little. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Lexa responded simply, resting her arms tiredly at her sides again. She glanced around the room, her brow furrowing slightly. It was a strange place; somewhere she could't recall seeing before. She gazed at the unfamiliar walls as Raven’s voice sounded over a loudspeaker, apparently summoning Echo, Abby, and someone named Emori to MedBay.

Abby? How did Abby get to space, much less bring a stranger called Emori with her? It was awfully nice of her, to come visit like that, but still.. strange. So strange, in fact, that Lexa mulled it over for a few minutes, trying to identify the something in her chest that had suddenly grown very heavy.

Doubting herself—Raven had said something about painkillers, after all—she struggled to push herself up a bit, ignoring the sharp, piercing pain that shot straight through her head as she did. She looked around as Raven tried to get her to rest back, and immediately realized what the problem was.

She swallowed hard, her eyes growing dark with fear, as she weakly held onto Raven’s arm, stilling her movements.

“Raven? Where is Clarke?”

♾

“Lexa, you can’t go, you need to stay here. We haven’t even assessed your brain function. Something could be very wrong,” Abby implored.

Lexa was already dressed despite the severe dizziness that hit her every time she turned her head too far in any direction. She practically spat on the floor as she pulled her boots on.

“Something _is_ very wrong. Clarke is out there, alone, in hostile territory. I could give a thousand _skrish_ about assessing anything other than a way to get Clarke home. Now, someone _find me my swords_!”

Raven and Echo exchanged a glance when Abby continued rationalizing as though she legitimately believed she could talk Lexa out of anything; much less persuade her not to go after Clarke. It would have been very nearly funny if the world weren’t actively falling apart beneath their feet.

Lexa snapped the last buckle into place with purpose and stood up, willing her legs to remain steady as she did. She faced the others and, noting the determined look on Abby’s face, it occurred to her how very much she looked like Clarke in that moment; all stubbornness and emotions, constantly worrying about things that simply _must be allowed to happen._

“Lexa, you were practically dead just a few hours ago. You can’t j—”

Muscle memory kicked in as Lexa lifted a hand quickly, her voice firm, but not unkind as she focused her eyes on Abby.

“I can, and I intend to. I appreciate what you have done for me, Abby; please don’t think otherwise. But I feel fine, and I am going to get Clarke. I would rather you did not stand in my way, but it will not prevent me from going if you continue to do so.”

“Lexa—” Echo started, but quickly snapped her mouth shut when Lexa’s sharp eyes found hers.

“ _You_ will back me up in this ‘New Polis’. Or am I mistaken? Do you no longer follow me, _Eko kom Azgeda_? Have your loyalties moved elsewhere in my absence?”

Echo blinked, mildly stung by the remark. It was briefly unsettling, and startled her into the realization that she had become so used to Lexa being her patient, her friend, her family—rather than her Commander. But now, as Echo gazed at her, she found it nearly unbelievable that she’d ever seen Lexa as anything _other_ than the Commander. Her poise, her expression, the determination in her squared shoulders. The piercing gaze that held Echo’s as something inside her chest shifted into place, and she began to feel a sensation that she hadn’t in quite some time.

She was ravenous; filled with craving and desire, ready to feel the blood of their enemies running through her fingers and the weight of her quiver and sword on her back. Echo was ready for a fight, and one waited for her just a few klicks away. The feeling shot through Echo’s body like a shiver. She locked her gaze to Lexa’s and very slowly, deliberately, and with purpose, she lowered herself to her knees before her Commander. Her voice was firm, her jaw set when she ducked her head.

“ _Ai ste kamp raun yu, Heda_.”

[I am with you, Commander.]

Lexa’s chin tilted up slightly, her gaze circling the room slowly; taking each of them in. Measuring her people with an oddly calm, confident look on her face, and finding not one of them wanting. A shift had gone through the room, and it was one Lexa had badly needed; the same shift Echo had felt.

She was not Lexa; not now. Now she was only _Heda_ , and _Heda_ would, without question or risk of failure, see the return of her people. _Heda_ was who they all needed just then, Lexa included. And so weak, powerless little Lexa curled up, still and small inside her own body, passing the reins to _Heda;_ letting the familiar dark determination spread under the surface of her skin until there was no lingering sign of _Leksa_. Until there was only _Heda_.

“ _En yu, Haihefa? Yu ste wichen_?”

[And you, King? Are you still loyal?]

“ _Sha, Heda. Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_.”

[Yes, Commander. My life is your life.]

Roan cleared his throat as he joined Echo on his knees, his head lowering quickly. Abby and Emori exchanged a look, and Raven just shook her head in denial, her face lined with worry as Luna mouthed an apology to her before kneeling beside Roan. Murphy rubbed Raven’s shoulders comfortingly and whispered something into her ear that made her nod ever so slightly and lean into him. He kissed her forehead softly before lowering to his knees beside Luna and entwining his hand with hers as he bowed his head.

Emori took a step forward, addressing Lexa quietly, but with determination in her face. “ _Heda, ai laik frikdreina_ , but I can still be useful. I’m a strong fighter, I have medical training, and I have spent the last six years as a spy for Chancellor Kane.” Emori tilted her chin proudly as she removed her gloves and knelt on one knee, resting her affected arm on her remaining knee, in plain sight. “It would be an honor if you would allow me to serve in your _gonakru_ , _Heda_.”

[ _I’m a mutant, / your army, Commander._ ]

Lexa took the girl in briefly, lowering herself just a bit and holding her hand out. Emori studied her briefly, cautiously lifting her deformed hand, her gaze softening when Lexa took it without hesitation and helped her stand once more.

Lexa’s measured gaze met Emori’s, and her voice was gentle, but authoritative. “ _Yu nou laik Frikdreina, yu laik ain kru_ , Emori. It will be an honor to serve beside you.”

[ _You’re not a mutant, you’re my people, Emori._ ]

Emori looked back at her with an affected and emotional expression that she quickly hid behind a stony face and set jaw. “ _Mochof, Heda. Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun_.”

[ _Thank you, Commander. My life is your life._ ]

Lexa nodded to her silently, gesturing for the others to stand once more as well. She then fixed her gaze on Octavia, who had just returned and was carefully carrying the mantle of the Commander, as well as Lexa’s previously misplaced swords. The tattered red velvet drape brushed the floor as Octavia wordlessly moved behind Lexa and positioned it.

Not taking her eyes off her people, she raised her hands and took the straps from Octavia’s hands, pointedly clicking the belt into place across her chest. Octavia carefully set her back scabbard into place, then knelt beside Luna. She ducked her head, offering the Kali swords to Lexa, who took them without so much as a blink and slid them onto her back.

“ _Mochof, Wanheda_ , my most trusted advisor and friend. All of you, prepare yourselves for battle, _ain seingeda_. We leave for New Polis at moonrise. _Oso gonplei nou ste odon_ ,” Lexa commanded firmly, her eyes training from each of them to the next. The responding chorus of “ _sha, Heda_ ”s came from all of them, including Abby and the others this time.

[ _Thank you, / my family. / Our fight is not over,_ ]

Lexa nodded slightly, dismissing them so they could ready themselves for the upcoming fight. After a moment, it was only she and Abby left in the room, and Abby approached her as she sat on a nearby chair.

“If you push yourself too hard, you’ll end up right back on my operating table. And we might not be able to save you this time,” Abby said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do.” Lexa inclined her head. She stayed quiet for another moment, but held Abby’s gaze, and her voice took on a more gentle tone when she did speak again. “If they find Clarke, they will kill her. You know _that_ , don’t you?”

“Yes,” Abby replied softly.

Lexa felt bad for the woman; she could tell the very thought of it struck through her like a scalding iron, and she did not have to imagine the pain Abby must feel, because she felt it herself. She felt it when the doubtful part of her brain continued to whisper that she would not manage to save Clarke; that she was likely long dead already, and this would be no more than a fool’s errand. That the cost would be dear, and paid in blood, and it might be for nothing.

One thing Lexa was absolutely certain of was that if Clarke had been harmed or worse, she would singlehandedly and unapologetically lay waste to New Polis and everyone within its walls. She would ensure that her vengeance, her wrath, her _punishment_ , was felt by every single person there. She would ensure that whomever was responsible for taking Clarke from her, for taking Clarke's light from the world, would feel Lexa's pain for a very long time. That they would experience a much slower and more creative destruction of their existence than whatever they had done to Clarke.

Her thoughts turned quite dark, and so quickly that it very nearly drew a soft gasp from her lips. She expected to feel at least _reluctant_ to kill, as she always had been. But the question of Clarke’s life, Clarke’s existence, any part of the whole that was Clarke being taken, the imagining that someone might have hurt her—it made her feel not just _eager_ to kill. Rather, Lexa also felt a bloodthirsty craving rumbling deep inside her soul that she hadn’t felt since the day she spilled Queen Nia’s blood with Costia’s name on her lips.

She _wanted_ to hurt anyone who might have harmed Clarke; wanted to squeeze down on a tender throat and mentally record the sight of the light leaving their eyes slowly, their body growing heavy with fear until their final breath. She wanted to make someone feel her own suffering, her own pain. She wanted to lash them to a tree and spend the night delivering a thousand cuts until the unknown entity who took Clarke from her begged for mercy, begged for the peaceful solace of death—and then, Lexa would refuse and deliver another thousand cuts.

_Jus drein, jus daun_. _Blood **must** have blood_, she thought. There had been a reason it was their mantra for so very long, after all; and certainly she would have the blood of any person who was responsible for spilling so much as a single _drop_ of Clarke’s blood. The mental image made her feel at once sickened and starved inside herself. She craved the violence her head was imagining in such detail, yet wished at that same time that it would dissipate and relieve some of the discomfort it was causing.

“Bring her home, Lexa.” Abby swallowed hard and reached out, gently resting a hand on Lexa’s shoulder.

The words and action snapped her out of her uncomfortable reverie, and Lexa squared her shoulders once more, her head held high as she held Abby’s gaze for a moment; held it so that Abby might know that Lexa genuinely meant what she was about to say, more than she’d ever meant anything else in her life.

“I will.”


	9. We Got Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arkadia braces for war while Lexa readies her army to march on New Polis.

_I had a dream the other night ‘bout how we only get one life_

_Woke me up right after two, I stayed awake and stared at you_

_So I wouldn't lose my mind_

_But you're like the net under the ledge_

_When I go flying off the edge, you go flying off as well_

_With broken words I've tried to say it, honey_

_Don't you be afraid—if we got nothing, we got us_

_I know that we're not the same, but I'm so damn glad_

_That we made it to this time, this time, around_

_And if we only die once, I wanna die with you_

_If we only live once, I wanna live with you_

\- OneRepublic, “Something I Need”

It was less than an hour later—with around two hours left until the sun began to set—when they had all gathered in the main entryway of the Eligius, where Raven and Abby had a large pile of rucksacks waiting.

“We grabbed whatever we could find on the ship, in Arkadia, and a bunch of supplies—some real weapons, too, thanks to Kane. Each bag has rations, water, first aid supplies. A flare gun, matches, extra ammo,” Raven babbled nervously, avoiding looking directly at Luna as her pitch and timbre increased with her rising emotions. “There’s a couple of compasses, I know everyone knows how to navigate, I just thought it would be good to cover all the bases, so to speak. Better to prepare for the worst, just in case. No such thing as being too prepared, right? So, yeah, compasses, and fire starters. There’s knives in most of them, and multitools, too. Oh, and everyone has a flare gun, so if you get into a situation where you need help, you ca—”

Raven’s voice repeating the flare gun information was cut off in a sharp gasp as Luna wrapped her arms around her tightly, and Raven broke immediately, burying her tears in the crook of Luna’s neck as she stroked her back. Echo and Octavia began passing out the rucksacks as Roan adjusted his chest armor.

Lexa turned to face her warriors, but found herself interrupted even before she started to speak. Bellamy had burst in, looking somewhat panicked, with Harper and —

“Indra?” Lexa said incredulously.

Her hair had been cut and she had a great deal more scars on her face than she once had, but it was unmistakably Indra. Lexa made as if to move towards her war chief, but thought better of it and caught herself; this wasn’t the time for a sappy reunion.

“ _Heda_ ,” Indra replied, but her face remained solemn even as she extended her arm. Lexa leaned in quickly, sharing a one-armed embrace with her.

“What's happened?” She asked as she pulled back from the all-too-brief hold.

Bellamy and Indra shared a dark look, and it was Bellamy who responded after a moment.

“I know this is bad timing, but a few of the kids have gone missing. Including Madi.”

Lexa felt the world dropping away beneath her feet, and she couldn’t tell if she had physically weaved or if had only felt that way in her mind.

“What do you mean missing?” Octavia demanded, holstering her sidearm and grabbing her rucksack quickly.

“We don’t think they’re actually _missing_ , missing,” Harper said carefully. “Monty overheard Madi and Reese talking about Clarke on their way to the stables. We think they, Aden, and two more of our girls, Mika and Tris, have gone to New Polis to find her. They took three horses, some supplies, and weapons.”

Lexa’s mouth was dry, and part of her wished she could teleport to Madi’s location just long enough to shake the girl by her shoulders for making such a foolish, careless, potentially deadly choice.

“Madi has never even been in a real fight,” Lexa murmured, dazed with fear and anger. “We can't wait; we must leave now. They can’t make it to New Polis before we do, they'll be slaughtered.”

“Reese, Tris, and Mika are strong warriors. They'll keep Aden and Madi safe,” Bellamy replied quietly, gently touching Lexa’s back as though letting her know he understood her pain at the moment.

Glancing toward Octavia, Lexa realized that he very much did, in fact, understand; and so she looked at him quietly, nodding as he continued, “I have to stay here in case _Wonkru_ scouts show up, but Indra and Harper will bring their _gonakru_ with you to New Polis. Nothing is more important than getting the kids and Clarke back.”

“ _Heda_ , I’m Harper _kom Arkadiakru_ , second to _wormana_ Indra _kom Trikru_. Our warriors are already gathered outside the ship, and we’re ready to deploy on your order, Commander,” Harper said, her jaw firmly set as she lowered her head to Lexa. Indra did the same, and Lexa bowed her head briefly in return.

“ _Mochof_ , all of you,” Lexa responded, realizing that what Harper and Indra had just done was hand her control of their army as well as her own.

Later on, when this had all ended and she lay in bed safe and sound with Clarke, the kids safely tucked away in the next room, she would allow herself to bask in the feeling of pride and gratitude their complete trust had unexpectedly strengthened in her.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and Lexa turned to find herself meeting Diyoza’s steely blue gaze, which held just the slightest hint of mischief and excitement deep within—a pre-battle sensation Lexa was quite familiar with. She tilted her head back to indicate the several dozen men that stood behind her—all of them in armor and carrying several firearms apiece.

“If you’ve got room for a few more, Commander, we’d like to come along,” Diyoza offered.

Lexa glanced at Octavia, but she looked just as unsure as Lexa herself felt. Before she could say anything, Diyoza took a step closer to Lexa, her weapon lowered and pointed away.

“Commander, if it were my daughter out there, I would want all the help I could get. If we’re going to live together in peace after this, we have to trust each other. I’m putting my trust—and my guys’ lives—in your hands. Willingly. The least you can do is trust me back, right?”

“ _Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun, Heda_.” With that, Diyoza took one knee before Lexa, and her men quickly followed suit, as did Indra and Harper.

Lexa gazed around slowly and took a soft, steadying breath, exhaling as her blood began to pump faster. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she smiled as she held her hand out to Diyoza and guided the woman to her feet. Every cell in Lexa’s body screamed with the exhilaration of impending battle, and despite everything else, Lexa felt a confident smile spreading across her face.

“ _Gon war_ ,” Lexa whispered, feeling the familiar thrumming that spread throughout her body. “ _Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun, Diyoza kom Eligiuskru_. I accept your offer of an alliance. Your people march with us now.”

Lexa raised her voice significantly higher, calling out to the restless crowd.“Rise, warriors! We march on New Polis, and we _will_ get our people back. _All_ of our people,” she emphasized. Octavia and Indra moved to her side as she headed for the ship’s exit ramp, all of the warriors cheering and whooping as they fell into formation.

In the grass, just outside the doors, were dozens of Arkadians; some of them on horses, all of them heavily armed and armored. They parted as Lexa exited the ship first with her advisors, trailed by Echo, Roan, Luna, Murphy, Emori, and Diyoza. Diyoza’s men fell into line behind the others, and Harper and Indra’s team naturally merged into the admittedly formidable-looking army.

Once outside, the soldiers began to say their goodbyes, and Lexa swallowed hard, trying not to think about the people she most wished to be holding and kissing right then.

Raven was still crying into Luna’s neck and holding Murphy with her other arm, and he and Luna were holding hands as well. Nearby, Bellamy cupped Echo’s cheeks as he spoke to her softly, their foreheads gently pressed together and her hand over his heart.

Abby put her arm out for Raven as Luna and Murphy rejoined the army. Luna’s chin tilted defiantly as she fought back further tears, and Murphy’s eyes were locked on the sky as he tried to shut himself down. Raven curled into Abby like a little girl, her expression pained as she did so.

Near the gate, Monty waited with the reins of a beautiful grey stallion, already saddled and wearing protective armor. “Commander—it would be an honor if you would take my prized _gapa_. He’s young, and strong, and battle-trained. He’s ready to serve at your side, _Heda_.”

Lexa considered it, eying the stunning beast. It had been a long time since she rode, and it would certainly allow her to preserve some energy. The horse tilted its head forward into her hand, nuzzling her, and Lexa melted internally. Truthfully, as a child, her favorite fantasy about being the Commander had been imagining riding a horse everywhere. And she could trust Monty; his love for Harper would have prevented any aggression towards herself. At least, that’s what Clarke would say, and she trusted Clarke implicitly.

“Thank you, Monty. Your generosity and support is appreciated,” she finally said, easily swinging herself into the warhorse’s very fine leather saddle.

“His name is JJ,” Monty said quietly, keeping it between them as he began untying the lead he held and offered her the reins.

Lexa stroked the animal’s soft mane as she took the proffered reins. “You named him after your friend, then, didn’t you? Those are his initials. Jasper Jordan.”

Monty paused, looking at her in stunned disbelief. “Uh, yeah. Yes. I.. I’m surprised you remember.”

Lexa gazed at him with a blatantly honest sadness in her eyes. “I remember all those we have lost. I’m sorry for the loss of your friend, as well as your parents. I will do my best to ensure that you do not lose your partner as well. Harper _sonraun laik ain sonraun_.”

“ _Mochof, Heda. Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun, sentaim_ ,” Monty gazed at her, his eyes glassy with tears he was struggling to hold back, and he whispered meaningfully, “May we meet again, Commander.”

“May we meet again, Monty Green,” Lexa bowed her head as she guided the horse onto the path.

While Monty was speaking to Lexa, the others began rejoining the troop, and their loved ones clumped off to the side, trying to comfort one another. Octavia, after hugging Raven, leaned over slightly to whisper in Bellamy’s ear, “You have something to do with Monty and the horse?”

“I might have mentioned something to him about someone’s current physical condition and estimated stamina level..” Bellamy shrugged, not taking his eyes off them as Monty handed the reins to Lexa. 

Octavia kissed his cheek, bursting with pride and taking a great comfort in Bellamy’s signature playful smile. “Thanks, big brother.”

“Just come back in one piece, O,” Bellamy said quietly, the smile fading as he smoothed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “All of you.”

Octavia nodded firmly, squeezing his hand before rejoining the army at the gates and mounting a cinnamon-colored horse that reminded her a bit of Helios. “May we meet again.”

“I hope so,” Bellamy murmured quietly, watching as the large group started off into the woods, and toward New Polis, with Lexa and Octavia leading the way on horseback. His heart broke until he could no longer see or hear the army moving in the still forest, and then he mentally slammed it shut and swallowed the key.

_A warrior doesn’t mourn until the war is over_ , Octavia’s voice lectured him from within. _We all have jobs to do, big brother, and right now your job is establishing a second front in case we fail, not crying like a coward._

When Octavia spoke to him inside his head, she was, without fail, only a child’s version of herself. Dark hair tied up in a red bow, giggling as he chased her around their bunk, squealing his name until she surrendered to a sneak tickle attack; waking him in the night to ask him how many planets there were, or why Piglet always worried about a problem instead of trying to fix it.

If Bellamy was totally honest with himself, even when Octavia was right in front of his eyes, marching courageously off to a war where she would unquestionably dominate even the best-trained lifelong warriors—he still saw the little girl in the ribbon. Carrying the weight of the world and the lives of her people on her shoulders; a burden far too large for any one person to bear alone, much less for a small girl with dark hair and a hardened soul. Driven by curiosity and bravery, ready to sacrifice everything she had on a moment’s notice to save someone she cared about.

He couldn’t help think of how his sister’s description fit Lexa and Echo, fit Clarke and Raven, fit everyone who marched to war and everyone who wanted to march beside them, including himself. They all bore it, all carried the weight of it individually--as if it was they alone who carried their people. If they didn’t figure out how to hold each other up a bit better and let someone else help them, he wondered, how long it would be before they all collapsed to their knees under the unshared weight?

How long would it be until there was no one left to fight for?

“I’m not afraid,” his lips barely parted around the softly exhaled words, watching the last moving leaves in the forest settle back into place as the earth swallowed his people.

“I’m not afraid,” he whispered to himself as he reluctantly turned his back to the tree line and approached the remaining warriors gathered in the center of Arkadia. His warriors, his people. People who would likely die too, if Lexa’s people and Diyoza’s people, and his people, and Clarke’s people—weren’t successful. The only chance they had was if those dividing lines were as narrow as possible—if they all held onto ‘ _ai sonraun_ ’ regardless of clan.

Bellamy stopped before his troops, glancing quietly over the crowd until his eyes found Monty. He stood just to the side of the gathered army, his eyes ringed in red after a heartbreaking goodbye with Harper. Monty gazed back at him stoically, and seemed to sense what it was Bellamy was silently asking him—they’d spoken of it often over the years, after all. And, as expected, Monty nodded his head slightly, granting his approval one final time.

Bellamy stepped closer, straightening his spine as he addressed Arkadia in a calm, but serious tone.

“We have our orders,” he announced, “From our Commander, _Heda Leksa_. Our remaining warriors will prepare a second front as well as a primary defense point if _Wonkru_ should reach Arkadia. They may already have scouts out! Nobody goes outside the gate without orders, and all nonessential personnel, as well as anyone under age, are on a sunset curfew until further notice. These are our orders as the Thirteenth Clan of the Coalition of the Commander, so let’s get moving!”

Bellamy breathed heavily as the crowd began to disassemble to a chorus of hushed discussions among themselves. Monty nodded with a proud expression on his face before joining the dispersing crowd. The crowd that now understood Lexa was their true leader, and would follow her just as surely as they would follow himself.He wasn’t sure, however, that he could deal with the claustrophobia of returning to his quarters until his shift as second watch began; not as worried as he was, not as fast as his blood pumped through his head to a backdrop of everyone he loved dying horribly.

“Raven,” he called out, jogging up to her. She paused in the doorway and spoke briefly with Abby, who hugged her before heading inside. He came to a stop as he approached her. “Raven, how do you feel about a little distraction right now?”

Raven’s face was pale and covered in exhaustion, but Bellamy doubted she would be any more likely to sleep at the moment than himself; a guess that was confirmed when she nodded and came back outside.

“I would love a distraction. What do you have? Target practice, some axe throwing? Someone I can punch until I feel better?” Raven guessed as she fell into step with Bellamy.

He smiled, adjusting his pace so she could keep up more easily. “Less aggressive. We have about a dozen more horses down there. I was gonna go check that they’ve got food and water, and I thought you’d like to spend some time with some soft people who don’t talk much.”

Raven stopped in her tracks, looking at him with a sort of curious disbelief on her face. “Bellamy Blake, am I going crazy, or has your old age turned you into a big softie yourself?”

“Probably a little of both,” Bellamy admitted. “If it’s too soft for you, you could just play Little Miss Hardass and go back to your room..”

Raven punched his shoulder as she started walking again, the last of her tears drying on her face as she forced the pieces of herself back together, grateful for the assistance from Bellamy in doing so.

“That actually hurt,” he said, rubbing the spot appreciatively. “You hit almost as hard as O does.”

“She’ll be happy to hear that. She told me I hit like you for the first few months of training. Before I got upgraded to having ‘the punching strength of a dead fish’, I think it was..” Raven smirked at him as she followed Bellamy down to the stable.

“That sounds like her mouth, for sure.” Bellamy smiled despite himself as they entered, pushing the barn door open and kicking a large rock in front of it to hold it in place. 

Raven probably would have had a sassy response for him if she wasn’t immediately distracted by the sight of the horses. Her jaw was open a bit and her eyes practically glazed over as she approached the particularly beautiful colt in the first stall. She was all black, with a white diamond on her forehead, and she whinnied excitedly as Raven approached her stall.

Bellamy watched as Raven began talking to the gangly little beast softly, waiting for her to notice what he’d really brought her to see. It took a minute, during which Bellamy went from stall to stall, checking on everyone’s water and food until Raven’s voice abruptly fell silent. She swallowed hard, glancing up at Bellamy unsurely.

Bellamy folded his arms loosely, moving to Raven’s side. “I know you can’t ride. But this little one won’t be able to carry anyone, anyway. She doesn’t need a rider, she needs a friend. One who doesn’t mind if she’s a little..” Bellamy shrugged. “Different.”

Raven’s eyes welled quickly as her gaze snapped back around to the three-legged colt--who was aggressively nuzzling her hand and arm like she hadn’t a care in the world--and then returned to meet Bellamy’s once more.

“Bell, I..” Raven shook her head a little, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

Bellamy nudged her gently. “Good to have you home, Reyes.”

Raven looked at him appreciatively, wiping her cheeks. “Good to be home, Blake.”

After taking a moment to steady her emotions once more, Raven cleared her throat, though her voice wavered just slightly, betraying her. “Does she have a name?”

Bellamy paused and smiled. “I’ve been calling her Pamir. It’s the callsign of—”

“The Soyuz T-12,” Raven murmured emotionally. “The spacecraft that carried the first female spacewalker.”

Bellamy gave her a gentle smile as he stroked Pamir’s muzzle. “Seemed like a sign when you came down right after she got on her feet for the first time.”

Raven buried her face against the colt’s head, sighing softly. “People didn’t think you were crazy for keeping a lame horse around? Feeding and sheltering her, when she hasn’t got anything to give back?”

Bellamy watched Raven quietly pretend that she was still talking about Pamir, and his voice was soft, his tone gentle when he responded.

“Everyone gives back in whatever way they can. Pamir here might be lame, but it looks like she’s pretty good at comforting the best mechanic-slash-coder and smartest person I know. That’s not such a bad trade-off, if you ask me.”

Raven couldn’t help the tears any longer, mumbling a halfhearted, “Oh, shut up, Blake,” in such an obviously emotional way that Bellamy couldn’t help but smile on his way out of the barn.

Raven ran her hands gently under Pamir’s chin, and the animal huffed softly, touching her muzzle to Raven’s forehead. “Being down one leg doesn’t even bother you a bit, does it, Pamir?” The horse huffed again, bowing on her remaining legs as though confirming the point, and Raven melted even further inside, if it was even possible.

“We’ll figure out a way to be useful now, too, won’t we? Just because there’s no coding to be done now, and we can’t fight in an actual battle, doesn’t mean we can’t help our people, right?” Raven rubbed behind her ears vigorously, an action that Pamir appeared to find very pleasant, and she leaned into Raven’s touch with a relaxed sigh.

“You know, I bet I could use the computers on the Eligius to hack into Mount Weather,” she realized aloud to the horse. Slowly, Raven lifted her head from where it rested, looking slightly dazed as her brain began to spin with an intensity that was nearly too much, all at once.

“If any of the old weapons systems there work, we might be able to use them against _Wonkru_. Or at least prevent them from using ‘em against us,” she continued excitedly. Pamir stomped her feet and wiggled, as though she understood Raven’s excitement and felt the same way. She whinnied as Raven kissed her muzzle.

“Looks like we might get to help our friends after all, little spacewalker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGEDASLENG TRANSLATIONS (order of appearance)  
> \- gathered from the show, David J. Peterson's blog, and trigedasleng.net. Any errors in spelling, grammar, or structure are entirely mine.   
>  • gonakru - army  
>  • wormana - war chief  
>  • Gon war - to war  
>  • Gapa - horse


	10. Deeper Than Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madi tries to fill Octavia's shoes, but her feet are still a bit too small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng translations are inline -- if you guys have a preference about this, please let me know in the comments! I switched to inline because I feel like it makes for a more streamlined reading experience, but if it's less distracting at the end, I can always switch back.  
> Either way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and your weekend!  
> Be well, be kind, ste yuj.  
> \- PG

_We can make it right,_   
_Tonight will change our lives_   
_It's so good to be by your side_   
_But we'll cry, we won't give up the fight,_   
_We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs_   
_And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young,_   
_And we'll feel so alive, all of the wasted time,_   
_The hours that were left behind_   
_The answers that we'll never find,_   
_they don't mean a thing tonight_   
_Throw it away, forget yesterday,_   
_We'll make the great escape_   
_We won't hear a word they say,  
they don't know us anyway_   
_Watch it burn, let_ _it die  
‘Cause we are finally free _ _tonight_

\- Boys Like Girls, “The Great Escape”

_Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow._   
_Fear cuts deeper than swords.   
Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. _   
_Fear cuts deeper than swords.   
Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. _   
_Fear cuts deeper than swords._   
_The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords._   
_Fear cuts deeper than swords._   
_Fear cuts deeper than swords._

― Arya Stark (George R.R. Martin), A Game of Thrones

Madi was flying.

The wind chapped her face and lifted her hair into a rippling stream that fanned out in her wake. Clear hazel eyes squinted in the sun as it began dipping down towards the horizon. The great gentle beast beneath her seemed relieved to be out of the barn, out of Arkadia, and she happily maintained a steady, even gait.

“How you doing back there, _skaiprisa_?” Reese called into the wind. Madi held on tighter to the other girl’s waist, her chin on her shoulder as they rode in tandem.

“This is amazing!” Madi cried back joyfully, leaning into her back.

Reese threw her head back and let out a wolflike howl. Just a few yards beside them, Mika responded in kind as Aden held onto her waist with red cheeks. Tris snapped her reins, urging her horse just slightly into the lead as she howled even louder.

Before she realized it, Madi was howling with them, and finally, Aden joined in as well. They flew through the massive valley, howling with everything they had, and part of Madi felt dreamy and ethereal; like this was where she was always meant to be, what she was always meant to do.

Madi felt like she could touch the moon and stars, swirling them in the sky with the palm of her hand; maybe even capture them and take them into herself. This was what freedom felt like, she thought. When the wind pulled your wild mane into the air behind you like the tail of a shooting star, and you were flying without a tether through the weirdest and most beautiful of worlds. When your senses were filled with the smells of the forest, and the enchanting beast that was braced beneath you, warm and strong and proud, flew you past the ground like you weighed nothing at all.

And if you had that feeling, and there were others near you that had it, too? Madi was hard-pressed to imagine something that could feel better.

Tris let out a whoop then, crying into the sky as she raised her dagger in the air, “ _Gon war_!”

Madi was the first to echo the sentiment, a thrill running through her entire body and one arm holding onto Reese tightly, the other punching the air with excitement. She howled again, feeling the solid, balanced weight of Reese’s sword at her back. She imagined herself as Arya Stark, imagined the blood of the direwolf pumping through her veins; fixated on vengeance, on getting Clarke back, on saving her people.

They stopped near a narrow river just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Mika and Aden gathered firewood while the rest of them rolled out burlap sleep mats and tended the horses. Madi sat astride a fallen log, watching carefully as Tris prepared a couple of rabbits for dinner nearby.

“You’re watching me very closely,” Tris finally noted, lifting her head to look directly at Madi.

Madi flushed lightly. “Sorry. I’ve never.. I mean, I learned how, I’ve just never had an actual, you know..” She gestured, feeling stupid. Truthfully, she’d been practically a toddler the last time she’d encountered fresh meat of any kind; she couldn’t even remember what it tasted like.

Tris gave her a kind smile and shifted over so Madi could see, motioning her closer. Madi slid off the log and knelt in the dirt by Tris’ side, paying close attention as Tris began explaining what she was doing, and why, and then finally handed the slim, nearly delicate blade to Madi.

Madi glanced unsurely at the small animal before her. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. This wasn’t Murphy’s Earth Skills class on the Ring; a mistake out here could mean they would all go hungry tonight. A mistake out here could mean serious injuries, losing your friends, losing your life. Maybe losing yourself, if the burden of guilt was too much to bear. Offhandedly, Madi found herself understanding just a little bit more about how Clarke had become so broken, and it made her heart feel heavy.

“You can do it, Madi,” Reese unexpectedly piped up as she checked the container of water that sat, boiling and purifying on the fire. “You won’t screw it up.”

Madi took a deep, steadying breath, and miming Tris’ earlier movements, began to skin the animal carefully.

♾

“That.. was the best meal I’ve ever had in my life,” Madi sighed into the starlit sky. She lay on her back on the log, her feet braced on either side of it and a hand on her slightly overfilled stomach.

“Hear, hear,” Aden added from his spot on the ground, where he, too, was sprawled on his back, his head resting on the small shield Mika had been carrying. Mika laid beside him against the shield as well, smiling at Madi.

“You’ve really never had rabbit?” She asked; but her tone was kind, curious—not judgmental nor mocking.

Madi shook her head. “I haven’t. We mostly ate fish and deer in _louwoda-kliron._ And plants on the Ring, mostly ones with a lot of protein.”

Mika smiled dreamily, gazing up at the sky. “You’re lucky, though. How many people can really say they once lived in the stars?”

Madi, Aden, and Reese all raised their hands slowly. They glanced at one another, and began to laugh, with Tris and Mika joining in quickly.

Their laughter was cut short by a long, low horn that sounded, shattering the otherwise near-silence of the trees. Madi instinctually took off like a shot, bolting into the woods as the others scattered at the suddenness of the sound as well.

Somewhere behind her, she vaguely heard Tris calling after her, that it was okay—something about a hunting party—but Madi couldn’t stop her legs from running. Her heart was racing as she tumbled through the forest, picking up scratches and burrs along the way.

It was as though she had no control over her own body, and she thought she would have likely ran until she lost consciousness if her eye hadn’t caught a pretty good hole to duck into. Falling to her knees, she crawled inside the hollow tree and curled up in a ball, feeling the tears dropping into her lap. Tears of shame, of fear, of guilt.

She’d abandoned them; all of them. She’d run away, and she’d hidden. Who was she trying to kid? She was no Arya Stark. Even _Sansa_ was braver than she was.

Madi was a baby. A baby who had left her friends to whatever fate awaited them and hidden like a coward, like a _natrona_. She wasn’t sure which was worse—betraying her friends, or the fact that Octavia would be embarrassed and ashamed of her. Some second Madi was turning out to be. She tucked her head into her knees and cried softly, hating herself and wishing they’d never come to the ground.

[Traitor.]

♾

Madi rocked in short, quick movements in the confined area of the hollow tree. Her heart pounded, and her breathing was labored, her body still vibrating with anxiety. She clamped her hands over her ears as she curled up into the darkness, whispering to herself.

“I am not afraid. I am _not_ afraid.”

“Having fun hiding back here?” Reese’s voice found her ears from outside the tree, gently teasing in a way that Madi found both endearing and annoying at the same time.

Madi dropped her hands from her ears and paused her rocking, frowning in the dark protection of the hollowed tree. “How did you find me?”

Reese’s freckled face suddenly appeared at the split in the old tree, and she shrugged. “I used to hide, too. This is the kinda place I would’ve picked back then.”

“I’m not _hiding_ ,” Madi mumbled, scratching at the bark petulantly. “I just.. needed a minute alone, that’s all.”

“I’m not judging you for it. I get it, I really do. Just..” Reese paused, her face tightening a little, and her usually bubbly tone fading into a quiet one that carried the weight of sadness in it. “Please don’t lie to me, okay? Like, tell me to go away, punch me in the face if you want to. I’d rather that, then being lied to. My dad.. He didn’t tell me what he was doing. He just acted normal. I didn’t get to say goodbye, because he didn’t think I could handle the truth.”

Madi shut her eyes tightly for a moment, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the tree, though she’d been fine just moments ago. Reese sighed, turning her back and sliding into the dirt, sitting back against the outside of Madi’s hiding tree. She stayed quiet, and eventually Madi found it within herself to crawl out of the hollow. She sat beside Reese, picking at the blades of grass beneath them and remaining quiet.

“I was hiding,” Madi finally whispered, feeling ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even mean to; it just kinda happened. It.. It just happens, when I get.. I dunno..”

“Scared,” Reese swallowed hard, twirling a small flower stem between her palms. “It’s okay to say it, Madi. We all get scared.”

Madi scoffed a little in the back of her throat. “People in my family don’t get scared. They don’t _hide_ from anything. Just me, I’m the weirdo, I’m the only one who gets scared.”

Reese glanced sideways towards her, picking at the fluffy seeds of the dandelion she toyed with. “ _Gapaskrish_. Everyone gets scared, Madi. Even Commanders, war chiefs, leaders. Everyone. It’s just how you handle being scared, what you _do_ with it, that makes the difference.”

[Horseshit.]

Madi pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head back to gaze into the tree canopy above them. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Use it,” Reese sat forward, her voice earnest. “You use your fear, you make it your weapon. You put every single painful thing in here,” Reese tapped Madi’s temple gently, “Into your blade instead, and you use it to strike down your enemies. You use it to win.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Madi whispered, feeling pathetic and weak.

She was stupid to ever have thought of herself as a warrior—the sad, broken little girl who grew up soft and spoiled in space; who had silly, childish fantasies about people a million times stronger and more interesting than herself. She was no Arya Stark, no Simba, no _Wanheda_ , and definitely not fit to be a Commander, no matter what kind of blood she had. She was just a girl; she was just Madi. And she was afraid, and people could _die_ because she was a coward. _Clarke_ might die.

She didn’t belong out here, not at all. She thought of Simba as a young cub, his paw looking smaller than ever as he paused in his father’s paw print. That was kind of how she felt at the moment, in addition to feeling foolish for ever thinking she could fill the shoes of someone like Octavia or Lexa.

“First step is to stop hiding,” Reese said honestly, reaching out to take Madi’s hand into both of hers for a moment, demanding her attention. Madi finally lifted her eyes and met her gaze, and Reese continued softly, “Sooner or later, you _have_ to stop hiding, Madi. You have to let people see you, or you’re gonna end up alone.”

“In the end, everyone’s alone,” Madi replied softly, unable to hold Reese’s gaze any longer. She gently pulled her hand back, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead on her knees, curled into a tight, impenetrable ball.

Reese was quiet for some time after that; enough that Madi finally lifted her head just a bit, to see if she was even still there. Sure enough, Reese still had Madi fixed with a strange look—one that was full of sadness and longing, but also a stubborn determination that was eerily familiar to Madi.

“Maybe so,” Reese finally said, her voice soft. She reached out and lightly touched Madi’s chin, guiding her gaze back to meet her own. “But what makes you think this is the end?”

Madi didn’t have a chance to answer before Reese leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, brief, chaste kiss, and Madi inhaled sharply in surprise. It barely lasted a couple of seconds before Reese sat back again, looking fairly surprised herself. Cheeks glowing red, eyes widened in stunned shock as Reese looked away from her quickly, Madi blinked a few times as she tried to figure out if that had actually just happened, or if she’d just fallen asleep inside the ugly old tree and was having a very strange dream.

After a couple of minutes had passed, Reese glanced back at her nervously. “I—I’m sorry. Can you say something? Anything, even if you—if you just wanna tell me to go away? The silence is kind of freaking me out.”

“I’ve never seen you look nervous before,” Madi said dumbly, her lips still tingling where Reese’s had touched them. Reese just stared back at her for a moment before starting to giggle. Despite having no idea what was so funny, Madi began giggling as well, the tense spell between them broken.

Their nervous laughter was abruptly cut off by the sounds of heavy feet crunching the leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. Footfalls far too heavy to belong to any child; these were men’s footsteps and, judging from the mixed cadence, it was several of them.

Reese quickly slapped her hand over Madi’s mouth, her other hand covering her own as they slumped to the ground together. Their chests raised and lowered slowly as they tried to control their breathing, and both girls’ eyes were wide with fear.

“I hear nothing,” a deep voice echoed from no more than a few yards away. “Halvar is jumping at _thompas_ again. I told you he was too green for a scouting party.”

[Rabbits]

“That was no _thompa_ , I heard people talking over here,” Halvar, who sounded as though he was just barely past childhood, insisted.

“Over here! I found them!” Came a deeper shout from the direction of the river. From the direction of camp, of Aden, Tris, and Mika. Madi felt the tears forming at the corners of her eyes as Reese covered her mouth, shaking her head almost imperceptibly at Madi’s pleading gaze.

Madi scrunched her eyes shut, feeling the streaks of tears that now rolled down her cheeks. Maybe they couldn’t save the others, but surely they could _try_? The scouts’s boots crunched the forest floor as they retreated in the direction of camp, and after a moment, Reese lowered her hand from Madi’s face.

“So much for not hiding,” Madi hissed, wiping away the traces of tears from her cheeks and climbing to her feet.

Reese narrowed her eyes just a little bit as she stood, brushing some of the dirt off her clothing. “That was _tactical_ hiding. Do you really think we had _any_ chance of taking them on in a fair fight?”

“Now what are we supposed to do?” Madi grumbled, keeping her voice down.

“Now,” Reese said, pulling her sword from her scabbard. “We make it an unfair fight, and we save our friends. You know how to use one of these?”

Madi nodded, taking the offered weapon and raising it, testing its weight and balance. It felt good; heavy, powerful.

“I call it Needle. It’s my good luck charm,” Reese said, pulling a dagger from her boot.

“Stick ’em with the pointy end,” Madi murmured, turning the sword in the sunlight slowly.

Had it been any other time, Madi would have needed to sit down and take a few deep breaths to ease the shock of someone besides Octavia _getting it_. Her entire life, she’d dreamed herself finding her strength and purpose the way Arya did. She felt—sheepishly at times—that if Arya was real, she would understand the complex feelings and confused emotions Madi was filled with. Assuming they actually survived whatever was about to happen, Madi was looking forward to having someone to share all of that with; someone who might actually understand her in a way no one else ever had before, through the lens of a constructed world that had spoken so clearly and so often to Madi’s sense of self.

Reese glanced up at her with a mildly surprised smile that rapidly became an appreciative one as she tied her hair off her face. “Winter is coming for house _Wonkru_.”

With that, Reese slashed at her own arm and cheek; not deep, but enough to draw a fairly copious amount of blood. She then used the dagger to rip at her clothing, and Madi watched in confusion, swallowing hard when she heard a commotion and yelling from the direction of their camp.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Reese didn’t answer; she just grabbed handfuls of dirt and rubbed them over her face and clothing until she was completely covered. She was dirty and bloodied, and she stood before Madi, arms outstretched, and turning just slightly from one side to the other.

“How do I look?”

“Terrible. Like you just lost a fight,” Madi replied honestly.

“Good. Stay behind me, out of sight. Wait for your opening.”

“What does that mea—” But it was too late, Reese had taken off and left Madi standing there in the woods, holding Needle and completely alone.

“ _Skrish_!” Madi hissed, crouching low and obediently following Reese’s path, hoping she would know when and what her opening was. Hoping she wouldn’t let her friends down, let her brother down. Hoping she wouldn’t choke and run away this time.

_I am not afraid. I am not afraid. You tell yourself you’re not afraid, and that’s how you slay the demon. We all have jobs to do. Being brave is yours. Reese trusts you; trust yourself._

She could be brave. She had to be brave. She was Madi _kom Louwoda-Kliron Kru_. Daughter of _Klark kom Skaikru_ and _Heda Leksa kom Trikru_. Second to _Okteivia kom Skaikru_ , the mighty _Wanheda_ , mountain slayer. Trained extensively by _Haihefa Roan kom Azgeda_ , _Luna kom Floukru_ , and _Eko kom Azgeda_ —revered warriors, one and all.

Madi narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the sword, squaring her narrow shoulders.

“I am a wolf, and will not be afraid,” she whispered to the forest with purpose, her fingertips tapping the hilt of the sword. “I am _not_ afraid.”

When Reese stopped in a small clearing, Madi hung back, camouflaged by the brush just behind the break in the tree line. Watching. Waiting.

Preparing.

“Help me!” Reese cried out, stumbling as she fell into the dirt. “Someone, please!”

“Halvar, go find out who is making that noise and stop them from doing so,” came the barked command of one of the men.

Madi watched with a sharp eye from where she was crouched as a pale, gangly boy no older than Aden cautiously entered the small clearing with his weapon drawn. He held the axe a bit uncomfortably, as if he wasn’t quite used to the weight of it yet, and he stopped when he saw Reese sitting in the dirt, arms outstretched behind her and tears on her cheeks.

“Is someone there?” Reese called, though surely she could see the boy. He was right in front of her, looking at the glaze of her unseeing eye.

Halvar took a tentative step closer, frowning. “I’m right here.”

“Please, can you help me? I got lost on my usual path, a-and something attacked me. I don’t know where I am, and I just want to go home,” Reese pleaded, her face a mask of fear that made her look even younger than she was. “Can you help me get back to New Polis?”

Halvar shifted sideways a few steps, as though testing Reese’s supposed sightlessness, and Reese turned her head in the opposite direction just slightly. “Hello? Please, are you still there?”

Seemingly convinced, Halvar slid his axe into a holster at his hip and crouched down to Reese’s side, his voice gentle.

“I’m here. I’m going to help you, okay? You’re gonna feel my hands on your arms in a second, and I’ll help you to your feet. Just hold onto me, I won’t let you fall.”

The boy took Reese’s arms carefully and, together, they stood. Halvar smiled a little, just before the hilt of Needle slammed powerfully into the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground in front of Reese, and in his place stood a heaving Madi, hands still wrapped tightly around the sword as she slowly lowered it.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears and she felt dizzy as she looked down at the unconscious boy in front of her.

“ _Ain yontsleya_ ,” Reese breathed softly, brushing the dirt off herself. “ _Mochof_ , Madi.”

[My hero. / Thank you,]

Madi swallowed hard, feeling her nerves beginning to dissipate under the much stronger influence of her adrenaline. She offered the sword back to Reese, trying not to see the small stream of blood coming from the boy’s ear as he lay very still at their feet.

“Did I kill him?” Madi heard herself ask in response, dazed. She felt a little sick, a little scared, and very disconnected from her own body. It was a strange sensation; uncomfortable yet heady. Powerful and dangerous.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Not now. Our fight is not over yet,” Reese gently pushed the sword back towards Madi. “Keep it. I’m better with a short blade, anyway. I think there’s only three others, if we ge—”

“There’s two more of them!” A heavily armored man interrupted them as he stepped into the clearing. “And they’ve killed Halvar!”

The girls quickly backed up, brandishing their weapons at the incredibly large warrior. He very nearly growled behind the silver mask he wore over the lower half of his face, and his eyes were dark and full of malice. He stepped towards them slowly, a hungry gaze beginning to form. Behind him, two more men dressed similarly and with similarly large, looming figures, entered the clearing as well. Mika and Tris were with them, bound first individually and then to one another back-to-back; Aden, however, was not with them.

Madi felt a large, thick stone sinking into her stomach, and she opened her mouth, unsure herself what would come from it.

“ _Set yu daun_ ,” Madi growled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, sword at the ready.

[Surrender.]

The men glanced at each other before breaking out into loud, raucous laughter.

“ _Chek au dison_ ,” one laughed harder, gesturing at Madi. “ _Kwelen strikon, yu na gon jomp ai op? Yu gaf gon raun ai? Yu laik goufa!_ ”

[Look at this one. Weak little one, you’re going to

attack me? You want to fight me? You’re a child!]

Madi sneered, the last of her fear dissolving to make way for her rage, and suddenly she knew exactly what Reese had meant by using her fear as a weapon.

“ _Fir na gon kodon moubeda kom bleironas_.”

[Fear cuts deeper than swords.]

Confusion crossed the man’s face as he tried to make sense of Madi’s words, and Madi used the precious moments she’d been given wisely. She launched herself at the man with a wild cry, her sword slashing across his back and unguarded shoulder, drawing a cry of pain from him.

Reese had taken the moment as well, and rolled to the ground, slashing across the back of the ankle of one of the men holding Tris and Mika. The bound girls fell to the ground with a shared grunt as the man screamed, limping with blood pouring from his wound. Aden fell onto the third man from a tree, landing on the man’s back. He wrapped his arms around his throat as the man slammed his back into a tree, trying to scrape Aden off him. Aden refused to let go and wrapped his legs around the man’s chest as well, pulling as tightly on his throat as possible.

Madi was a fair match for her battle—their swords clanged against each other as they very nearly danced back and forth across the clearing. She’d always been most adept with the sword, and though this battle was obviously a far cry from a training session, she found it surprisingly easy to anticipate his movements before he made them. Needle felt like an extension of her own body, and she was light on her feet as she parried and dipped beneath his swings.

He became sloppy; thrown off by the small girl who was making a fool of him. His feet grew clumsy, his swings becoming wild with rage. He’d realized Madi wasn’t a joke, and surely regretted giving up the advantage by believing she was.

“Is this Arkadia’s secret weapon? A child assassin,” he taunted her. “I look forward to tasting your blood now, _strikon_. It will be even more sweet taking it after this.”

Madi didn’t respond and, in truth, hadn’t paid attention to his words. The enemy would taunt and mock you, would try to force you into a misstep, a mistake. But they couldn’t tell you something you weren’t listening to, and Madi meant to prove as much.

She parried several more times, and found herself being backed up towards a large, knotted, overgrown tree. The man pulled his face mask off so she could see the wicked grin on his lips as he slowly approached her. He had her, and Madi knew it. She slowly lowered her center of gravity, bracing one foot on the tree behind her, testing the space she had to work with.

Nobody would be able to help her; Mika and Tris were still struggling to unbind themselves, and Aden and Reese were a little busy with their own _soulou gonplei_.

[Single combat.]

The man took another step forward and lunged.

Madi took one slow, deep breath before launching herself off the tree, twisting her body in the air and using the momentum to land just to the man’s side, completely avoiding his attack and taking pleasure in the sound he made as he slammed into the tree. He tried to recover, but it was far too late. Madi gathered every single emotion she’d ever felt and channeled it into the sword in her hands, driving it through the man’s back with all of her might. She felt it slice through flesh and bone, saw the blood that began to rapidly spill from his torn heart as the tip of the blade hit the tree and dug into it.

Madi felt dizzy again, but there was no time to care. She gave the sword a hard yank and flew towards her friends as the man’s body collapsed to the ground. One of the remaining attackers gave an angry howl, and flung Aden from his back, charging towards Madi. 

This time, it was even easier. The man practically impaled himself on the sword, and Madi had no choice but to stare into his wide eyes as the light in them began dying. A few yards away, the others had taken the third man down, and Tris, who had finally managed to wriggle free of some of the bonds, was the one to drive a knife into his heart.

Madi fell to the ground with the heavy man a crushing weight on her, her eyes glued to his as they went from realization to fear and then to nothing. Then they were just empty, lifeless, soulless eyes that had nothing in them. He was nothing, he was gone, and Madi felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Reese and Tris rushed to her side, pushing the body off a panting, shaky Madi.

“Madi? Madi! Are you okay?” Reese said quickly, checking her over for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Madi shook her off a bit, trying not to note the slightly hurt look on Reese’s face as she did. Madi stared hard at the blood that still stained the large tree—the evidence of her first kill.

“Where’s the other one? Halvar.”

“Probably where we left him,” Reese said quietly. “He’s dead, Madi.”

“We don’t know that. We have to check. Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe,” she said pointedly, catching Reese’s gaze. Reese just looked away, taking a steadying breath as Madi started back towards the nearby clearing they’d left the boy in.

“Maybe we should go back. Let Arkadia know where the scouts are,” Aden said, following behind her.

“We can’t go back,” Madi snapped, storming through the brush, unbothered by the branches and thorns that scratched at her as she passed. “Nothing has changed. We continue to New Polis, and we stick to the plan. _Valar morghulis_. We’re leaving at dawn.”

Aden just frowned. “Valor what?”

Reese’s voice sounded as hollow and empty as she felt inside, responding tiredly. “ _Valar morghulis,_ it means.. it means ‘all men must die’. It’s from a book.”

Aden was appalled. “You and your stupid books, Madi! This isn’t a book, this is real life, and we’re just kids, and we don’t _belong_ out here! You _killed_ someone, Madi!”

Madi stopped mid-step and whirled on Aden with a rage thumping in her chest that she was only recently aware she had in her. Her face was full of darkness and her voice dangerously low as she stood eye-to-chest with her brother, staring him down fearlessly.

“If you want to cry about it, then go home, _sofon_. Sleep in your nice comfy bed and get your stupid precious hair braided and eat some potato chips. I’ll go save Clarke by myself, since you’re too scared, _bushhada_.”

[baby. / coward.]

Aden scowled as Madi turned on her heel without waiting for a response and continued towards the clearing. Mika reached out to touch his arm lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension, and cleared her throat a little uncomfortably. “What, exactly, is the plan? That was never really clear. Are we just.. going to wander into New Polis and start stabbing people until we find Clarke?”

"If we have to. Then we tell them Arkadia remembers," Madi responded crisply, then stopped walking abruptly.

Halvar lay on the ground, groaning as he struggled to sit up. The side of his face was coated in blood, some of it already beginning to dry on his cheek, and he looked at their party with fear, putting his hands up.

“Please—I won’t hurt you. I didn’t even want to come; my guardian made me. My parents were Arkadia sympathizers, they were killed for it,” he begged, looking small and weak on the ground. “I can help you. I—I can give you information, o-or.. anything, whatever you want.”

“You have nothing I want but your life.” Madi fixed him with an intense stare, looking for all the world like a jungle cat readying to pounce, her chest still heaving from her confrontation with Aden moments ago. The boy began to cry as Madi approached, taking her knife from its holster and turning it slowly in her hand.

“Madi,” Aden said, stepping in once more, his tone pleading this time. “Stop it. He’s hurt, and he’s just a kid. Leave him here, and let’s just go. He’ll probably die out here by himself, anyway.”

“We can’t risk it,” Tris said quietly. “He could warn his people.”

Madi glanced up, and though Tris looked somewhat sick herself, she gave Madi a firm nod. She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying desperately not to hear the boy’s pleading and tears as she crouched beside him.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she whispered as she forced the knife into the side of his neck, just the way Octavia had shown her. His eyes went briefly wide, but quickly closed as his body went limp and crumpled to the ground. Madi shakily retrieved her knife, taking a moment before she stood and ignoring the tears that were running down her face.

“We have to burn them,” she mumbled quietly. “Before sunrise, so no one sees the smoke.”

She didn’t look at any of them as she stuffed her knife back into her holster and walked away from them all, back towards the river and their camp, feeling even more disconnected from her body than she’d already been.

♾

The fire was burning incredibly bright in the otherwise dark, colorless world of the night. They’d built it up significantly around the corpses they’d dragged over, and they watched together as it burned with rags held over their faces to staunch the awful scent of burned flesh and hair.

They stood for a very long time in complete silence, each one of the kids trapped deep inside their own thoughts, their own burdens. Aden had a particularly dark look on his face, and Madi hadn’t yet looked at Reese’s face. She was far too afraid of what she might see there—shame, disappointment, hatred perhaps.

It stung a bit, truthfully. Madi had finally felt like she had a friend, for the first time in her life, and somehow in doing what _had_ to be done, she’d managed to wreck whatever had been blossoming between them. She’d be lucky if Reese ever spoke to her again, and would understand if she didn’t. But she had to get Clarke back, and she couldn’t allow herself to break the way she knew she would if Reese’s face looked back at her own with disappointment or worse, fear. 

Madi feared herself and the darkness within plenty enough on her own; she didn't need someone else looking at her the way she looked at herself already. So she just stared into the fire, startling slightly when a warm hand found hers. Glancing down, she saw Reese’s arm, now bandaged from where she’d slashed herself. Her fingers instinctually wound into Madi’s, and Madi gratefully pressed her palm to Reese’s.

Tentatively, she looked up, and Reese’s normally smiling face was solemn, but there was no trace of fear, disgust, or anything besides a sort of sadness present there.

“I know we had to,” Reese said quietly, her gaze on the makeshift funeral pyre before them. “I’m not naive. We try not to kill, but sometimes we don't have a choice. I know that.”

“You don’t think it makes me a bad person?” Madi swallowed hard, looking back at the fire as well, their hands still intertwined.

“I don’t think you could be a bad person even if you were trying,” Reese responded quietly. “I think you’re a survivor, and that’s why you’re still alive. Same as me.”

Madi stayed quiet for a very long time. Mika, Tris, and Aden left the fireside in favor of the bedrolls, and eventually Madi and Reese sat on the log, still joined at the hand as they stood watch together.

“Have you done it before? Killed someone?” Madi finally asked quietly.

Reese didn’t answer right away, and Madi remained silent, giving her the time and space she required. She didn’t pull back from Madi, though, and after a long while, she nodded.

“Once. Death came for me, a few months after we came to the ground. I was.. disobeying an order. Drífa and I went hunting, even with the blizzard warning. An Azgeda scout found me, and we fought. I thought I was really done that time. Drífa helped me, though. He was kind of hanging off us, and she kicked him, hard. I jumped off and I slit his throat.”

Reese looked up at her, her eyes just a bit glassy with emotion, and a slight hint of shame as well.

“You survived,” Madi replied softly, lifting Reese’s hand to her heart and squeezing it gently. “Death came for you, and fought him, and you won. You had to.”

Reese nodded a little, picking at a hole in her pants leg, lost in thought once more. Madi lowered their hands, but they remained entwined as the girls sat in another long, stretching silence beside the crackling fire.

“What do we say to the god of death?” Reese finally asked quietly, regarding the bloody pile in the pit before them, a sick feeling in her stomach despite the knowledge that there really _hadn’t_ been another choice, things being what they were—there rarely _was_ another choice in this world. Or any of the other worlds dreamed up in books and old films.

Madi drew in a slow, steadying breath, her eyes reflecting the flames that danced just a few yards away, something hard and ugly--and undeniably powerful--running through her. Her veins had been replaced with ice, her blood still hot and thick as it pumped through the frozen tunnels she’d become, her body tensed as though she expected another battle at any moment—and perhaps she was right to.

Madi stared down the flames, stared down her vanquished enemies, and breathed her response into the chill of the night air.

“Not today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGEDASLENG TRANSLATIONS are gathered from the show, David J. Peterson's blog, and trigedasleng.net. Any errors in spelling, grammar, or structure are entirely mine. 
> 
> The phrase Madi uses in this chapter, "Valar morghulis" is from the High Valyrian language of Game of Thrones--and though the phrase itself as well as a few other words were invented by George R.R. Martin, the rest of the High Valyrian language was also designed by David J. Peterson, making him the coolest linguist on the planet. :)


	11. Kangaroo Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's army marches toward New Polis, and Lexa has a _very_ rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a soundtrack now: <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7MS9ygTACOTKMoWm5eQqIQ?si=engxVUcnT1-YGbkQx0MTsw>  
> CW: mildly-detailed descriptions of (human) remains, Intense grief, (presumed) child loss

_Losing my control, here it is: the day I have to go_

_Just sit beside me, I can't let this show_

_How sick I feel to leave you so alone, god I'm terrified_

_We only want to feel as close as we can be_

_Use hands for holding on to your precious family_

_Just believe in all who shine the light to help you see_

_Cause if I believe in you, will you believe in me?_

_I kissed her on the cheek and then I waved goodbye_

_She had the saddest look I've seen in years, a kangaroo cry_

_A warm pathetic ocean flow we have to live by, we have to live by_

_Because we have to live, keep hanging on, keep hanging on_

\- Blue October, “Kangaroo Cry”

Murphy adjusted his rucksack on his shoulders, reaching into one of the pockets and pulling out a small packet from it. He carefully opened it and offered it to Luna, who hadn’t spoken since they’d left Arkadia.

Luna looked into the pack and then to Murphy, smiling just a little bit as she took one. “Potato chips?”

“Mhm. The last bag of ‘em, too. Tomorrow’s gonna be a really shitty first day of the rest of our shitty lives, you know,” he said, popping one into his mouth as well.

“And yet, I’ll consider it a good day anyway, as long as we’re alive to see it.” Luna sighed tiredly, glancing at the army that surrounded them.

“Way to set your sights high,” Echo teased, popping up beside Murphy, who immediately offered the bag to her. She took a chip and kissed Murphy’s cheek, and then Luna’s as well.

“It’s all about your reasonable goals. I _could_ aim for waking up in a giant lake entirely made of potato chips, but I’ll be disappointed,” Murphy rationalized. “And I think I’ve had my fill of disappointment from this planet.”

“Yeah,” the girls responded in unison. Luna slowly bit into her chip, glancing behind them towards Arkadia with concern.

“She’ll be okay,” Murphy said, without even looking at her. “Raven is always okay. She doesn’t know how not to be.”

Luna smiled a little sadly, shifting her pack to reposition her spear more comfortably. “Do any of us?”

Murphy shrugged almost imperceptibly, but beyond that neither of them responded, and they continued walking together in silence for awhile. When the quiet was broken, it was Murphy who spoke once more.

“You guys have obviously spent a lot more time on the ground than me or Raven.. Do you think there’s even the slightest chance that this is a war we’re gonna be able to win? Do you think Wonkru will just.. _follow_ Lexa, after all that?”

Echo and Luna shared a look with one another, and Murphy let out a deep sigh as he stuffed the remains of his chip packet back into his bag. He pulled the shoulder straps forward a bit more, and muttered, just barely loud enough for them both to hear it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

♾

After Ryder took over Lexa’s guard, Octavia let herself fall back into the ranks beside Indra, who was engaged in a quiet but intense discussion with Echo.

“—hiding under the floor when Octavia found her.”

“How exactly does a child get under a floor?” Indra’s facial expression didn’t change, but her eyes, as usual, betrayed her true feelings.

“It was my family’s old suite,” Octavia replied quietly as she fell into step with them. This time, a flick of her eyebrows and marginal purse of her lips betrayed Indra’s emotion as well. She reached over and gently grasped Octavia’s wrist, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Octavia smiled a little as they nodded to one another.

“That was a lot of conversation without words,” Echo noted, walking in front of them, but almost entirely backwards; an impressive feat, considering the ground was anything but even. Her light-footed grace said a lot about why she had been groomed as a spy in the first place.

Indra looked to Octavia, her expression once again a mask of indifference. “People tell me Madi belongs to _Heda_ and Clarke.”

“She does,” Octavia nodded shortly, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to form in her stomach.

“Funny. I would have guessed she was yours,” Indra replied with a pointed look and crooked eyebrow. Octavia flushed, shifting uncomfortably as she unnecessarily adjusted the strap on her knife holster.

“The dark hair, the impressive sword skills,” Octavia began, her tone sassy. “I can see why you’d think that. Don’t forget, we both also have—”

“Big mouths and no modesty?” Echo interrupted, a playful smirk on her face.

Indra smirked as well, nodding to Echo and telling Octavia, “I like her.”

Octavia groaned and rolled her eyes. “If it’s all the same, I’d really rather the two of you didn’t bond all that much. It’s not gonna be good for my self confidence.”

Echo ignored her entirely, addressing Indra with an overly loud whisper, “They both snore loud as hell, too.”

“You take that back,” Octavia’s jaw dropped in mock horror, and she sped up, swatting at Echo’s arm when it was within reach. Echo laughed as she ducked out of the way, and just behind them, Luna raised her voice and looked in Indra’s direction.

“I can confirm that, actually,” she volunteered.

Indra just shook her head at them, but her lips were just slightly curved into a ghost of a smile. Every warrior had their own method of preparing for war; it was refreshing to see that closeness and laughter still had a place in the ever-darkening world.

Octavia had grown; matured into a true _plangona_ and an extraordinary one. Indra felt a level of trust for the _Azgedan_ former spy purely based on the knowledge that Octavia trusted her, and beyond that, it filled her with a sort of pride in who Octavia had become and still had yet to become. Something that, in all honesty, she had never felt for Gaia, and it weighed on her to wonder what might have been if she had. If she’d been proud of Gaia for being Gaia the way she now felt proud of Octavia for being Octavia—not a warrior, not a second, not a junior attendant to the Commander—just Octavia.

_[Warrior woman]_

Octavia; who clearly felt that Madi was hers as well, and was struck numb in the heart with worry as much as Lexa was.

Indra subtly rested her hand on Octavia’s shoulder and leaned over, whispering between them, “Knowing she is also yours makes me more confident that Madi is going to be okay. She has your spirit, after all.”

Octavia blinked many times in rapid succession, trying desperately to force the tears back inside her eyes, and to their credit, the others said nothing about it when she was unable to and they instead rolled freely down her cheeks.

♾

They were nearing the midway point between Arkadia and New Polis when the sun began to lower in the sky, and Lexa made the call to set camp at the riverbank just ahead. They would have fresh water and room for the horses to graze, and they would need a good night’s rest in preparation for the upcoming war.

They would set camp, then, nestled among the thick green oaks and massive trees with trunks larger than horses themselves. The forest was strangely quiet in comparison to the forest Lexa had grown up running barefoot in. It was eerie, haunting in a way, when somewhere nearby, a single bird chirped a sweet tune into the night, that no other responded to.

Lexa was surely melancholy, because she could think only of the fact that the lone bird in the forest was not unlike herself at the moment. She lay alone in her tent, missing Clarke’s warmth, her smile, her hands reaching in the dark to comfort, protect, and hold onto Lexa. Like Lexa was just as important to her survival as breathing was; a feeling Lexa was familiar with. She’d never needed anything more in her life than she needed Clarke.

But there was no Clarke to hold her, and no Madi for her to hold, and no Aden to pretend he didn’t want to be held, when really he wanted nothing more. There was no one, and Lexa realized that, for the first time since well before they’d gone to space, she was well and truly alone. There was no drunken slur of Clarke’s whispers, no song in Luna’s sweet cadence, not even the oddly familiar dark chuckling of _Sheidheda_.

There were no memories stamped onto pages of books and petals of flowers, either. Lexa supposed she could re-read one of the books still committed to her… new Flame? Un-Flame, perhaps—it was her combined knowledge, Raven had said, and so she maintained the things she had learned over the years from the others; but the others were dead now. For the first time since the day she stood victorious, dripping with Nightblood that was mostly not her own, Lexa was even alone in her own head.

She’d underestimated how strange and polarizing such a thing would be. She’d gotten used to it, she supposed; having others in your head, criticizing or supporting your every thought. A forced filter through which your thoughts had to pass before they got to you, yourself.

Lexa rolled over on her bedding, grunting at the dull ache in the back of her neck. Abby, Echo, and Emori had done a great job on the surgery, she knew. She’d seen the scar, and it looked no different than the scar that had already been there, just redder in color. But it did ache, and her head ached, and her heart ached, and she was uncomfortable and alone, and sleep simply would not come.

Lexa growled in frustration at herself, flinging her blanket off and reaching for her boots. She strapped them on and took her sword and dagger, tying her hair back into a carelessly messy braid. She paused, and then opted to grab her bow as well. She wasn’t as adept with it as she was with melee weapons, and so didn’t use it in battle—but a moonlit night might give her a shot at a _thompa_ or two, or maybe even that damnable bird with its repetitive, overly jolly tune.

_ [rabbit] _

Yes, she’d like a shot at the animal, the poor thing lacking the intelligence to realize it was alone, too. Whistling that hopeful tune as though all was well and normal.

Lexa knew she was being ridiculous about a worthless, stupid little bird that had no particular quarrel or vendetta against her, but she was too tired and worried and angry to care. She double checked herself and grabbed a torch, lighting it off the campfire. She glanced around camp, but everything else seemed to be in order and everyone besides her appeared to be asleep, as she’d been hoping they would be. She didn’t feel like arguing with anyone about wandering the woods without a guard, as though she were a child or incapable of protecting herself.

She made her way out of the clearing they were settled in, walking parallel to the river itself just to make it easier to get back, especially if she was bringing food on her return. Not to mention, it was the direction the blasted bird’s chirping was coming from, and as far as Lexa was concerned, it was a personal vengeance that she now owed the bird, and she no longer cared if it was petty of her. She’d never get to sleep with that happily, stupidly optimistic bird carrying on like this, reminding her how alone they both were.

Perhaps later, she would tell Clarke about how she engaged in a blood feud with a bird because its happiness was preventing her from sleeping. Clarke would enjoy that story, and subsequently tease Lexa about being a bird-hater, or something far more creative and endearing. Yes, Clarke would laugh about this later, and especially so if the story ended with Lexa exacting her vengeance by eating the bird in question to assert her dominance.

Lexa was pleasantly surprised to find she had a bit of a smile on her lips at the thought of seeing Clarke, and laying quietly with her, giggling about her own neuroses. She’d been loathe to let herself picture such a thing when she knew realistically, Clarke could already be dead, or might be soon, and they were still a day and a half’s walk from New Polis. The more Lexa thought about seeing Clarke and holding her, the more dark rage she felt building up in her chest towards the possibility of Clarke being injured or simply _gone_.

The darkest part of Lexa’s soul taunted her with images of Costia’s head, set upon the bed they had shared, and in her mind, Costia’s face pleaded with her from the realm of the dead as it slowly turned into Clarke’s face. Clarke’s wild golden locks replaced Costia’s dark plaited loops, blue eyes replaced brown, but both sets were glazed and unseeing in death.

Lexa paused, leaning briefly on a tree. The mind picture had stolen her breath for a moment, a vivid as it was. She felt briefly dizzy and like she might be sick, and so she shut her eyes tightly and tried to think of calming images while willing herself to get it together.

She pictured a long, luxurious bath she and Clarke had taken once, in Polis Tower. Clarke had somehow turned the washing soap into delightful bubbles in the large, claw-footed tub. Lexa had rested reclined on Clarke’s chest, sipping from a shared cup of a berry-infused wine surrounded by the dozens of candles Clarke had brought in.

She pictured herself laying in bed on the Ring, awake and smiling as Madi curled into her chest, a foot hooked over Clarke’s leg on her other side. Aden slept on Clarke’s other side, with an arm slung carelessly over Clarke’s face that had apparently not bothered Clarke—at least not enough for her to move or for her snoring to cease at all. Back then, Lexa had been awake because she couldn’t bear the idea of such a happy sight being wasted on the unconscious. Clarke had gently teased her about being Commander Snugglebutt again, forgoing sleep because she was too happy to do so.

After a few moments, Lexa’s stomach settled once more, and she took a slow breath, considering heading back to their camp to try sleeping again. The bird had gone quiet, it seemed, and she had little hope of finding the thing in the dark if sound was no longer an option, anyway. Perhaps it had flown away and reunited with another of its flock after all, just like Lexa had to believe she would herself.

Lexa began to turn around, when she heard the bird whistling its tune once more, but much closer than the last time, and she quickly moved towards the sound. She followed the sound into a clearing just barely set back from the edge of the river, but as she got closer, something stung and burned in her eyes and nose. It was a smell that was unimaginably horrible, but also undeniably familiar.

Hesitantly, Lexa moved forward, pulling her sword from its scabbard and holding the torch as high as she could, listening for footsteps or whispered breaths, but there was nothing. Even the stupid bird had gone silent, and Lexa felt something in her stomach sinking as she approached the source of the pungent, sour smell of burnt flesh. It smelled like any other funeral, but who would have a funeral in the middle of nowhere? A day’s walk at _least_ from the nearest settlement? The bodies would normally have been brought home to their clan or clans.

But perhaps it was now _Wonkru’s_ way, she thought. Perhaps they merely disposed of and burned their dead, but did not concern themselves with an ability to honor them later. From what she had learned of _Wonkru_ already, it didn’t seem like they had much honor these days, anyway.

The smell was strong, though—the burning could not have happened longer ago than the previous night, as some of the remains of the severely singed bodies were still vaguely smoking. Lexa covered her face as she got closer, the smell nearing unbearable. Whoever had burnt the bodies had been in a rush, too, or perhaps inexperienced at funerary procedures. The bodies were only partially burnt—unrecognizable, but very much still resembling bodies.

“Le—uh, _Heda_?” Lexa was startled, and nearly dropped her sword as she whirled around to see Octavia standing with both hands up in surrender.

“ _Skrish_ , Octavia. You scared me,” Lexa gasped quietly, but quickly shaking it off. “What are you doing?”

_[Shit,]_

Octavia raised her brows a bit. “What am _I_ doing? It’s my job to protect you until the day you dismiss me. You went wandering off in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, when you’re not feeling a hundred percent, of course I followed you.”

Lexa shut her eyes briefly. She couldn’t be upset with Octavia for doing her job, but she was, nonetheless. “So be it, you’re here now. What do you make of this?” Lexa gestured at the pile of burnt corpses.

Octavia walked closer, holding her torch out to inspect it, and Lexa followed her quietly.

“Bodies. Badly burnt, looks like a funeral that got cut short.” Octavia squatted down, squinting closer at the pit and shaking her head a little before looking back to Lexa. “This is.. what Grounder would just leave bodies in this state?”

Lexa shook her head. “Even a thief or murderer deserves an honorable death and disposal. These people.. whoever did this had no care for their enemies.”

Octavia breathed out softly, her face a little sick as she stood. She frowned and followed something Lexa couldn’t see in the dirt. Lexa followed her, but paused when she saw the look on Octavia’s face. Something sunk, hard and heavy inside Lexa’s gut, and she felt her legs go slightly unsteady beneath her.

“Octavia? What is it?”

Octavia swallowed hard, pale as a ghost, her voice breaking when she spoke. “Hoofprints. _Skrish_. There.. there were _gapas_ here. Recently, like.. last night.”

_[horses, shit]_

The world fell away, and Lexa felt dizzy as she felt herself smoothly exiting her own body. She melted into a phase where she floated just slightly above herself, and listened to her lips bringing forth the word that she felt in every cell of her being and well beyond it.

“No..”

New Polis, she knew for a fact, did not use horses, and as a result had none tamed at their disposal. There were only a few horses that would have been tied to the tree where the majority of the hoof prints were, and those were the horses the kids had taken from Arkadia when they left. Free _gapas_ didn’t linger together beneath trees, alongside portable trough lines in the dirt. No others were missing, and Lexa’s own party—including JJ, a fine animal as Monty had said—hadn’t made it in this direction yet. Their own tracks ended at the camp site, and no other parties had come through this way in months.

No Arkadia parties, at any rate. If the kids had been here and encountered _Wonkru_ , particularly enough _Wonkru_ to ride away on the three trained beasts, at that..

They wouldn't have had a prayer. 

Octavia didn’t wait for any further response; rather, she went back to the campfire and silently but firmly yanked Lexa’s torch out of her numbing hands. Using both torches this time, Octavia leaned over the pit for a closer look at the remains, even using the toe of her boot to gently nudge several extremities out of the way. Lexa peered over her shoulder silently, because she knew Octavia already saw what Lexa herself was now looking at.

The bodies were too burned to tell for certain—there were no bits of hair or clothing that might help identification—but there was enough ash, and charred flesh remains and splintered bits of bone, to account for five young adults. And there was a single leg that had been only marginally burnt and slightly cast off to the side, that was the right size and shape as Aden’s, with the singed laces still dangling from the blackened shoe.

Untied laces.

Not to mention the copious amount of blood that she could now see, reflecting the light of the torches from trees and ground alike, and slowly she and Octavia realized in unison that some of the blood was as black as Lexa’s own. When Octavia looked up at Lexa again, with tears streaming down her horrified face, she didn’t need to verbalize anything further.

All of the air went from her lungs all at once, and her head swam violently as she leaned forward to vomit. Lexa felt the world pitch sideways and begin to disintegrate, and she collapsed to her knees with a haunting wail that shook the forest in both volume and pitch. Octavia fell to the ground beside her, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist from behind as Lexa screamed her grief to the unsympathetic woods that surrounded them. The sound cut through Octavia like a knife, and it took her several minutes to realize that she was wailing right along with Lexa, as they sat beside the smoking remains and fell to ash themselves.

The bird’s incessantly cheerful tweeting began again, in almost a mocking cadence of Lexa’s distraught cries. Lexa blindly shook Octavia off herself with a pained gasp, and grabbed the bow she’d brought, operating entirely on instinct as she took aim and put an end to the happy song. She felt nothing, however, as the birds corpse dropped out of the tree, arrow still in its throat as it fell into the pit full of the other remains.

She felt _nothing_. It didn’t matter. There was no relief or comfort to be had, now. There was nothing; she was nothing. Madi was gone. Aden was gone. Clarke was likely gone. And Lexa could feel herself leaving behind her own body as well, as everything she was, and ever had been, and ever would be, all of it swirled before her and merged into a single solitary purpose: vengeance.

New Polis _would_ feel her punishment, Lexa vowed, as the others woke and came running towards the primal cries that were coming from both herself and Octavia. Each of them quickly came to the same conclusion as they had upon looking, and Murphy barely clasped Luna’s arm as she sank to her knees with him as well, sobbing with her forehead pressed into the dirt. Echo stared in shock from the tree line, her face pale and bloodless, seemingly stuck in a lack of movement before she turned to throw up into a bush. Luna rocked back and forth with Murphy’s arms around her as they cried together, and Lexa curled into herself inside Octavia’s arms that now held her, trying to comfort and reassure even as she fell apart herself.

Lexa had read a factual book--an old safari guide actually--about animals on the Ring. In it, they revealed an intriguing fact about kangaroos—which had always been a favorite of Lexa’s, particularly after they had read the Pooh Bear stories on the Ring with Madi and Aden. Aside of finding out more about Octavia’s worried Piglet from so very long ago, Lexa delighted in finding out that kangaroos, like many of the animals in storybooks, had a real life counterpart, and had subsequently seen several nature movies about them. The interesting fact was that mother kangaroos had a special talent—they were familiar with their offspring’s unique cry for help. A mother kangaroo would always recognize the cry of her own child when she heard it.

Lexa couldn’t help it; inside of her head, she felt she had failed for any number of reasons, including and especially concerning the fact that she hadn’t heard the cry of her own child before it was too late. Lexa wondered if mother kangaroos also grieved the day their child no longer cried for them at all. She wished that the dirt she lay sobbing in would part and just swallow her whole; take her pain away, immeasurable as it was, because the weight of it was just too much for her to bear.

Now? Now she would scream, and cry, and regret, and ache. But when she could stop, when the tears began to slow and her throat was too raw to scream any longer, Lexa would change again. Lexa would seek out those who had taken Madi and Aden and probably Clarke from her, and make sure they were the last residents of New Polis to die.

She would ensure that every single person in New Polis felt her grief, felt her rage, felt her loss. She would destroy them all, and those directly responsible, she would save for last. She would make it slow, make them truly feel her wrath for however long it took for her to feel incrementally better. She suspected it may take more than one lifetime for that, and in the meantime..

In the meantime, she would make them all suffer with her. She would make them _all_ feel the crippling pain—the pain which was the only thing left inside the numb shell of her body now. Pain, and vengeance. She would take their children from them and lay waste to all they held dear. She would dismantle and destroy every man, woman, and child, who stood in her way. She would raze what remained of this nightmare planet unapologetically, and put an end to them all, if she thought such actions might make her pain even marginally more bearable than it was now.

When time had passed—much time, in fact, during which Lexa had remained curled in the dirt in silence, once the wails had subsided after several hours—and Lexa first formed her lips around words, her voice didn’t come out. Scratched raw from her howls of despair, her mouth dry with the dirt she had inhaled, it took her a moment to find her voice.

When she did, she first whispered, and then raised her voice a bit higher, and then higher still, until the entire forest no doubt, heard her declaration. Her voice had the sharp edge of darkness in it now, as though her Nightblood itself were vaporizing into words breathed off a razor tongue. She _did_ feel like she could spit blood, but she also felt like she would much rather taste it. She craved it in a way she never had before, with an almost gleeful, anticipatory desire. Those who had caused this pain would pay for it with their lives, and Lexa would not only unapologetically take life after life, she would enjoy doing so. She would delight in the destruction she meant to wreak.

The forest around her seemed to bend to her will as she chanted, louder even still, and with the others joining in now, crying to the entire world, if it might be listening.

“ _Stedaun gon Wonkru! Jus drein, jus daun!_ ”

_[Death to Wonkru! Blood must have blood!]_


	12. Carried Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark oversimplifies complex politics, misplaces her boots (again), and receives some very unexpected help followed by some very unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Intense grief, (presumed) child loss

I've trained myself to give up on the past 'cause

I froze in time between hearses and caskets

I was losing my mind because the love,

The love, the love, the love, the love..

I go up to my room and there's girls on the ceiling

Cut out their pictures and I chase that feeling

Of an eighteen year old, who didn't know what loss was

Now I'm a stranger, and I miss the days of a life

Still permanent, mourn the years before I got carried away

I'm screaming from my bedroom window, even if its gonna kill me

Woke up this morning early before my family from this dream

Where she was trying to show me how a life can move from

The darkness, she said, to get better - I wanna get carried away

I didn't know I was lonely 'til I saw your face

I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change

I wanna get better, I wanna get better..

\- Bleachers, “I Wanna Get Better”

Clarke couldn’t really be sure how much time had passed.

She supposed it didn’t inspire panic because frankly, it was a vaguely familiar sensation by now. She knew at least one sun had risen and set since Kane brought her into his house, but it was entirely possible another sun or maybe even several suns may have come and gone in the time it took Clarke to pass out drunk on the floor and then wake confused, her head aching.

Across the room, Kane sat in an armchair, sipping a hot drink of some kind, and Clarke sat slowly, holding onto her throbbing head as she did.

“How long was I out?” Clarke mumbled, noting that her feet had become bare at some point, and beginning to look for her boots.

_You never remember where you leave your boots_ , Lexa’s voice teased in her head, and it only intensified the heaviness in Clarke’s chest.

“Overnight,” Kane answered shortly, his face lined with worry and stress once more. “It was sloppy of me, I’m sorry, Clarke. Someone could have come in and—”

“They didn’t,” she cut him off, searching under a chair for her missing footwear. “We have to figure out how to get me the hell out of here. I need to get back to Arkadia and Lexa.”

“That’s easier said than done, Clarke,” Kane responded, his voice tight as he shook his head. “The chaos in town is settling, and the war chiefs will come soon to tell me the plan for Arkadia.”

Clarke’s fingers wrapped around the toe of one boot and pulled it free of the curtain it was tangled in triumphantly. “So, tell them the plan is “ _not wiping out Arkadia_ ”, then.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t have to be. Are you their leader, or not?” Clarke asked, sliding her boot on and working the closures on it.

“I’m their leader because I give the orders they want me to give. It’s the only reason they follow me. The minute they see me falter, see me weak? They’ll kill me, and any chance for peace, and choose a new leader. Probably one who would have no problem razing Arkadia to the ground.”

Clarke paused, looking at him with some disbelief. “What happened to you, Kane? People don’t follow a leader just because they _agree_ with them. That’s not what leadership is. People didn’t like Lexa’s changes, but they followed them anyway.” She looked at him in disgust and added, “Did you _agree_ when Jaha floated my dad? Is that why you did it?”

“Of course not, Clarke. But the creature that doesn’t adapt, dies,” Kane replied simply, setting his cup down. “I adapted.”

Clarke made a sour face and a scoffing sound in the back of her throat before closing the last buckle on her boot and beginning to search for the remaining one.

“Well, adapt back. Lexa’s on the ground now, and they’ll follow her like they did before,” Clarke said simply, as though it were all just that easy.

Kane bristled slightly at the implication, his voice growing tighter. “I wish it were as simple as you make it sound.”

Clarke grabbed her other boot and began pulling it on. “What do you think will happen if you bow before Lexa? If they see the transfer of power?”

Kane drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments before clasping his hands together, his index fingers resting on his lip as he mulled it over.

“Truthfully, I think they would kill us both. Lexa lost a lot of her favor over these years, Clarke. A majority of her people think she abandoned them in their time of need, that she was weak, and a coward. _Audaskai_ sowed the seeds of discord, and they grew very quickly down there. We’re talking about fighting against a thick forest of dissent now.”

Clarke finished up with her other boot and fixed Kane with her gaze, ignoring the pounding in her head and the temptation to stave off further symptoms of a hangover by staying drunk. “Then I guess it’s time to start looking for a chainsaw.”

“More blood spilled,” Kane murmured, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder if things would be better had we all died on the Ark. The human race was already surviving here, and I wonder if all our arrival did was compromise that.”

Clarke made a face again as she stood, her legs slightly wobbly. “It’s a waste of time to worry about what you can’t change. Worry about how we’re gonna convince your war chiefs to relax, how we’re gonna get them to follow Lexa again. Worry all you want, just make it useful worrying.”

Kane studied her for a moment, noting the way her voice faltered slightly when she mentioned Lexa. “How do we know Lexa is in any condition to—”

Clarke’s hand quickly went up in a ‘stop’ gesture, shaking her head vehemently. “Lexa is fine. My mom will get her up and functioning and ready to take control again.”

Kane stayed quiet, well aware after so long with Abby that there wasn’t really any such thing as talking a Griffin woman out of believing the thing she believed, or the thing she felt compelled to do—whether that be playing Commander to buy time, or helping people to steal rare medication against their laws.

So he let Clarke have this one; for the moment anyway.

He opened his mouth to say something else, when the front door of the house slammed open, and suddenly the room was filled with several warriors—all wielding guns—and at the forefront of the group was Gaia.

“Chancellor! Are you okay?” She exclaimed, rushing to Kane’s side. Kane’s face was a mask of shock, and Clarke couldn’t help but see the fear that flashed across it.

He was truly concerned about what he had said—that they would have little trouble killing and replacing him—and suddenly Clarke was taking everything he had said quite a bit more seriously.

With that thought, Clarke let out a feral cry and launched herself at Kane, and—as predicted—Gaia physically put herself in the way of the attack. It was barely a fight; almost humiliating, really, Clarke thought, as Gaia held her head against the floor, a knee digging into Clarke’s back.

“What should I do with the _natrona_?” Gaia snarled to Kane, scruffing the back of Clarke’s neck as one would a small, wayward animal. It was a move that was painfully effective; however Clarke was mildly offended by both the implication and the casual manhandling, petty as it seemed even in the moment.

_[Traitor]_

Kane gave Clarke a look that suggested he thought she’d better be quite sure about what she was planning to say or do just then, before responding dismissively, “Take her to Titus. Perhaps he can get some information from her before she goes to the pit.”

Clarke felt a sickening weight in her stomach as she was yanked forcefully off the floor by Gaia’s men and marched in a tight hold from Kane’s house, leaving behind a worried-looking Kane, who watched from the doorway.

♾

Clarke had thought Gaia would merely pass her off to Titus, but instead she was brought into a squat hut that was half built into the side of a rock face. The inside could only be described as a sort of dungeon, and Clarke felt her heart in her throat as she was chained to a wall with a set of bolted metal shackles. She swallowed hard as Gaia paced quietly before her for several minutes after dismissing the others.

“You thought we were all fools, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed in an overly bored manner, unable to prevent herself from sassing back, “Not _all_ of you, just most of you.”

Gaia hit her then, with an open palm, but across her mouth, which started to bleed. “The stitches were fresh, blood still wet. You lied. I don’t know how you became a _natblida_ , but you are no Commander.”

Clarke spat the blood from her cut lip to the ground, her arms held in place high above her head, and a defiant look on her face as Gaia continued, unperturbed.

“You thought your ruse would allow you to take over. We saw your ship. How many of you wait in the sky and in Arkadia now, to take over our home? Would you kill us all or just enslave us to your people?”

“You’re giving me way more credit than I’m due,” Clark said, feigning sheepishness and bracing for the hit that came once more. “You know, you’re pretty good, but as someone who’s been tied up and slapped around a _lot_ —and done some tying and slapping myself, of course, but let’s just keep that between us girls,” Clarke wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at that, “—I have to say, Titus hits _much_ harder than you do. Something you might wanna work on, if you’re looking to bring that extra intimidation factor to your torture sessions. Maybe then Kane will let you have all the fun with the prisoners, instead of making you call Titus in to help you.”

Gaia took immense pleasure in hitting her the third time, Clarke knew, but couldn’t really blame her. She’d meant to get under Gaia’s skin, and clearly she’d been successful and struck a nerve. Clarke could already feel her eye starting to bruise. It nearly felt good, though—forcing Gaia’s hand by irritating her emotions. Maybe if the girl were unbalanced enough, she’d reveal something useful, something to give Clarke a clue as to how to solve the Wonkru problem without further bloodshed.

And if not, then at least Clarke could take pleasure in aggravating her for a bit before Gaia or Titus killed her.

“You know, you were once loyal to Lexa, or don’t you remember? She declared you into the Order of the Flame, and ate shit from your mother for months afterwards about it—and defended your choice more than a few times. Then she appointed you _Fleimkepa_ in Titus’ place, and yet here you are, with no loyalty to spare for Lexa, for her spirit?” Clarke shook her head disapprovingly.

“Lexa was a coward,” Gaia fixed her with a cold glare. “You would _still_ claim you’ve taken the Flame?”

“I would still claim Lexa left me in charge,” Clarke responded, wishing she’d been a bit more clever at the verbal sparring than she was. It was more difficult to come up with witty responses now, as the lack of circulation in her hands was beginning to sting.

“Name one Commander besides Lexa or Becca,” Gaia challenged her, crossing her arms on her chest, a smug look on her face that grew smugger the longer Clarke remained silent and glaring. “Then it’s as I thought, and I look forward to seeing Titus break you, Clarke.” Gaia holstered her dagger and turned towards the door.

In a last, desperate attempt to appeal to whatever humanity might have still lurked deep inside the girl, Clarke’s voice broke slightly as she called out, “ _Ai sonraun laik yu sonraun!_ We’re all each others’ people, Gaia!”

Gaia paused in the doorway and turned to face her again, her expression dark and without pity.

“ _Yu nou laik ain kru_ ,” she said simply, before shutting the door behind her and leaving Clarke helplessly hanging in the dark.

_[You’re not my people.]_

♾

Despite the fear that filled her more the longer she hung in the pitch black, Clarke was more afraid of what might be coming for her in the form of Titus. If Gaia had become so heartless, what of the man who hadn’t had much heart to begin with?

Clarke couldn’t help being frightened. She’d been at Titus’ mercy once before, and if not for the threat to Lexa at the time, she had always believed Titus did mean to kill her and would have had no guilt or hesitation about doing so then—never mind with things how they were now.

After what felt like hours of marinating in her own worry and regret, the large, heavy door creaked open, and Clarke blinked in the sudden light. A hooded figure entered, carrying a torch and closing the door behind themselves. After a moment, they lit several torches on the wall, and then lowered the hood to reveal a bald, tattooed head.

“Hey, Titus. Good to see you, how have you been?” Clarke forced an overly jovial tone, as though they were a couple of old friends catching up. “Have a good summer?”

Titus finally stood before her, meeting her eyes with a sort of urgency that felt strange and out of place to Clarke, even in this admittedly strange situation. Titus leaned closer, his voice very low and very desperate, with a pleading in his rounded eyes that was entirely unfamiliar to Clarke, and left her in confusion for a moment.

“Lexa. She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

Clarke stared at him hard, remembering how he had looked the last time they were in this position, and she could find no trace of that Titus, in the one that stood before her now. He looked only concerned, perhaps fearful even, and with just the slightest bit of hope in his face, and it threw Clarke a bit.

Titus’ face grew more intent, and his voice even softer as he implored, “Clarke, please. All else aside, you have to believe I care about Lexa still. She.. was the closest to a daughter I’ve..” He cut himself off, swallowing thickly.

Clarke, meanwhile, chewed on this for a moment before she realized that deep inside herself, she knew it to be true. If nothing else, Titus might actually be able to help her, if he knew it was ultimately helping Lexa.

But if he was here for information, she’d be giving it to him and just _hoping_ he didn’t use it to make things worse. She had to trust someone to help, she supposed, and Kane had been very.. _pointed_.. about telling Gaia to take her to Titus. Maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe Kane was craftier than she’d given him credit for; it would explain how things got to the point they did in Mount Weather, as well as the moves he appeared to be making now.

He had played chess with her father and Jaha, after all. And as Clarke well knew, the only way to win at chess was to play several moves ahead of your opponent. Was having her brought to Titus a move that was three or four more steps in the making? He was someone Gaia would never believe was still loyal to Lexa after she removed him from his post as _Fleimkepa_ , yet also someone who had devoted his life to following the Flame, and the Commander. Titus would have been horrified by the idea of kneeling before someone else. She sighed heavily and worked her jaw back and forth for a moment before making her choice.

After a long, tense minute, Clarke nodded slowly. Titus’s face filled with relief and, much to Clarke’s surprise, he immediately took a keyring from his robe and unlocked her shackles, pausing only to look into her eyes and quietly, sincerely, say, “Thank you, Clarke.”

Clarke rubbed her mildly sore—but now free—wrists, still a bit stunned by what had just taken place. “You’re welcome. Thanks for the rescue and the not-torturing me.”

“Lincoln has a group waiting in the woods,” Titus replied, taking off his cloak to reveal a second cloak, and handing the spare to Clarke. She started putting it on as he continued, “We have only a short window to get you there, and they’ll bring you back to Arkadia.”

“How did you know?” Clarke said, still dazed as Titus reached over to adjust her hood so it covered more of her face. “About Lexa, that she was alive?”

“ _Heda’s_ spirit hadn’t found the next Commander yet,” Titus replied simply, a mildly surprised look on his face. His tone indicated that the answer should have been obvious, but was also not entirely unkind. “I didn’t know for sure, but I believed that _Heda_ must be alive, and had sent you in her stead for some reason. I have faith; Gaia, however, has lost her way,” Titus said, his voice thick with bitterness and disapproval as he opened the door again, gazing around for a moment.

“She’s not the only one,” Clarke muttered, crouching behind him. She was truly beginning to wonder if there was anyone left who _hadn’t_ lost their way by now; if there was anyone left who knew where they were going or why. God knows she hadn’t ever really known those things herself.

Titus silently motioned her to follow him, so she did. They stayed low until they were past the tree line, and Clarke noted with some surprise and maybe a touch of amusement, that Titus was deceptively light on his feet for a man who had always seemed so weighted down with his own misery; more fleet-footed than she was—not that it was a high bar she set these days. They moved together quickly and quietly through the woods, Clarke struggling to keep up with him in the wake of her injuries, exhaustion, and hangover.

To his credit, Titus was fairly understanding of her lack of coordination or grace, and frequently paused in his trek to wait for her to catch up. They burst into a small clearing and were met by several firearms and swords—all of them quickly lowered when the group saw it was he and Clarke.

“Thank god,” Lincoln said, putting his sword back into its scabbard. “We thought you were a goner, Clarke.”

“Not yet,” she replied, unable to help her smile upon seeing him; just behind and slightly adjacent to him on either side were Sinclair, Niylah, Jackson, and Miller.

“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes, and of _course_ you’re bleeding again. Why are you always covered in blood when I see you, Clarke?” Niylah teased gently, leaning over to hug her. Clarke hugged her back, surprised by how grateful she was to see her again, and looking so well. Her hair was longer, and she looked tired— _Really, who didn’t lately_? Clarke thought to herself—but other than that, she was very much the same Niylah she’d been the last time they’d met face-to-face.

Quite _literally_ face-to-face, actually, and Clarke flushed just slightly when she realized it. Niylah, to her credit, merely smirked, as though she knew exactly what was in Clarke’s head and was amused by it.

“It’s good to see you,” Clarke mumbled to her, then had similarly brief reunions with the others as well. Sinclair, of course, immediately asked after Raven and was clearly relieved to find out she was okay.

After a moment, Titus spoke up.

“I hate to cut short this reunion, but those of us who belong here need to get back and make it look like Clarke escaped on her own, and the rest of you need to get Clarke back to Arkadia,” he pointed out.

Clarke, perhaps inspired by Niylah’s embrace, offered her hand to Titus, and though he looked stunned for a moment, he grasped her forearm and gave her a slight nod.

“Bring Lexa home,” he said quietly, his gaze locked to hers. “May we meet again, Clarke of the Sky People.”

“I will,” Clarke replied firmly and honestly. “May we meet again.”

With that they separated, with Jackson and Miller following Titus back to the heart of the singed and still slightly smoky New Polis. Clarke, Lincoln, Sinclair, and Niylah made their way back to the horses that waited to carry them to Arkadia—to Madi, and Aden, and maybe Lexa would be up and about by then, too, Clarke hoped.

♾

Clarke held onto Niylah’s waist as they flew through the woods on horseback, trying her best to prevent her hands from slipping anywhere awkward. Niylah, to her credit, just seemed to be enjoying Clarke’s discomfort in a friendly sort of way, and feeling none of her own. Clarke supposed Niylah had no reason to be uncomfortable; it was she that had used Niylah in the past, not the other way around.

Clarke forced the thoughts from her mind for the time being. There was no use to them in the moment, and if they were able to stop this war somehow, there would be plenty of time for Clarke to apologize for treating her so poorly later on; if they weren’t able to stop this war, it wouldn’t matter, anyway. They would be far too dead to worry about guilt and holding grudges.

They stopped after a few hours to take care of their various biological needs, and while Lincoln and Sinclair sat beside the fire, Niylah chose to sit quietly on a large stone overlooking part of the valley. Clarke approached her hesitantly, relaxing only when Niylah noticed her and slid over to make room.

Clarke sat beside her, and gratefully took the strip of jerky she offered her, chewing it thoughtfully as she looked out over great swaths of dead, dry land. It was disheartening, as far as views went.

“There’s nothing,” Clarke whispered quietly, barely aware that she’d spoken aloud in the first place.

“That’s where the trading post was,” came Niylah’s quiet, sad response, pointing to an area that was literally nothing but sand. In fact, all of the areas seemed to be nothing but sand dunes and burnt, ashen tree corpses.

Clarke had come back to the ground with quite a bit on her mind, and as such, hadn’t really found the time to ruminate on the general state of things since then. She found herself suddenly swarmed with concern and overwhelmed with questions. She hadn’t realized how dire the situation was, how much of their world had been turned to dust, and suddenly the thought of going to war seemed absolutely ridiculous to her.

So ridiculous, in fact, that she started laughing softly. Niylah glanced over at her unsurely, concern wrinkling her brow as Clarke laughed a little harder.

“We—we’re going to war, the last of the human race, over.. over this?” Clarke nearly lost her balance, laughing harder as she gestured out over the expanse of sand that had replaced nearly all of what was once a lush, green forest and bustling city. “We’re fighting over who gets custody of a bunch of worthless land we can’t even plant on!” She continued, gesticulating wildly as she stood, still unsure whether she was speaking to Niylah, or herself, or the universe at large.

“Can you believe that? A bunch of sand, that’s what they want to kill Lexa over? That’s what’s got Kane babbling on about Dante and his wrath, what had Gaia using me as a punching bag? That’s what we’re going to war— _again_ —for?” Clarke threw her hands up and just laughed harder, her eyes even watering a bit.

Niylah watched with increasing concern as Clarke seemingly lost her mind, and set her food down. She stood and gently put her hands on Clarke’s shoulders, trying to steady her a bit. It took a moment, but when Clarke’s gaze met Niylah’s, she found herself unable to look away, and her laughter rapidly disintegrated into crying.

Without a single word exchanged, Niylah wrapped her arms around Clarke and let her fall apart. Clarke did so with gusto, thankful for Niylah’s strong, quiet presence once more. Never once asking anything from Clarke in return, never complaining at Clarke’s questionable treatment of her or total ignorance of her feelings.

Clarke let Niylah comfort her in the moment, and when she pulled back and looked at the other woman guiltily, Niylah had only a small, kind smile to offer back, and a comforting hand that rested briefly on her shoulder.

The message was clear: she didn’t care if Clarke never reciprocated her feelings; she would still be there, if ever Clarke found herself in need of a comforting embrace, in need of a friend to lean on. She could break apart, and Niylah would let her.

Clarke was grateful for it, and she’d tell Niylah that someday, too, she decided.

If they lived, anyway.

♾

They were just nearing the riverbed when the scent of active campfires reached their noses. Lincoln was in the lead, and he pulled back on Helios’ reins, gesturing for the others to stop as well. Clarke leaned to Niylah’s side, frowning as they glanced around.

“Probably scouts,” Lincoln whispered, carefully dismounting. The others followed suit, and readied their weapons. Niylah handed Clarke a knife from her bootstrap, and Clarke nodded gratefully as they made their way through the brush. Sinclair brought up the rear with a heavy firearm, his eyes sweeping side to side and behind them, just in case.

“Could it be from Arkadia?” Clarke whispered ahead, but Lincoln shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Why would they set camp in the day?”

Clarke shrugged, though Lincoln couldn’t see her. “Why would anyone?”

“Maybe one of their party was injured,” Sinclair suggested, glancing behind them once more.

“Or it’s a trap,” Lincoln countered, moving closer to the scent and, now, the sound of people. A lot of people, if Clarke had to guess, though the voices were all hushed. Their party moved closer to what they could now see was a large clearing, full of tents with gear packs strewn about.

“This isn’t a hunting party, it’s an army,” Clarke murmured, but quickly realized it wasn’t from New Polis. Clarke stood quickly before anyone could reply, and jogged through the last of the trees with the others calling after her until they saw what she’d seen.

“Octavia!” Clarke cried out as she dashed into the clearing.

Octavia spun on her heel quickly, her brows lifting nearly off her forehead when she saw who had called out to her. “Clarke?”

Clarke’s face melted into a wide smile as she bolted the remaining feet into a stunned Octavia’s arms. Octavia hugged her back, still in shock, and Clarke felt her hands drop away after a moment. In a quiet voice full of disbelief, Octavia let out an audible gasp.

“Lincoln? Lincoln!”

Clarke let go of her, noting as she ran into Lincoln’s arms with tears already running down her cheeks, that Octavia was quite pale, and looked very much as though she hadn’t slept in some time.

When Octavia reached him, Lincoln easily scooped her into her arms and they kissed as Octavia wrapped her legs around his waist, cupping his cheeks in her hands as they cried together. Rested their foreheads together and laughed through heavy tears, though there was something unquestionably reserved on Octavia’s end that didn’t quite make sense.

Clarke, however, was so busy watching Lincoln and Octavia’s tearstained reunion that it took her a moment to realize that nearly every single person in the clearing was just staring at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. She frowned a bit as she glanced around, and her heart jumped into her throat when she saw Echo approaching her.

Echo. Who was meant to be fixing Lexa’s head, not marching in whatever ill-advised attempt at invasion was brewing here. Clarke went pale, and Echo quickly put her hand up a bit as she approached.

“It’s not Lexa,” she said quickly. “Lexa is here, actually, but, Clarke—”

“She’s here?” Clarke’s face lit up immediately, and she took off as quickly as her sore legs would allow her, in the direction Echo had unconsciously motioned in at the mention of Lexa’s name.

“Clarke, wait!” Echo called, but Clarke ignored her. Whatever was going on could wait until after she’d seen Lexa; touched her with her own hands, held her with her own arms. Made sure she was truly still alive, and here, and _Lexa_.

“Lexa? Lexa!” Clarke yelled, stumbling through some undergrowth and kicking a branch out of her path clumsily.

“Clarke?” Came the return cry, and Clarke felt the tears rolling down her cheeks as Lexa emerged from a tent and went very still at the sight of her.

Lexa looked smaller, somehow. She was even paler than Octavia had been, her eyes cupped by dark circles that made her look even more bloodless. Her face was fairly dirty, and clear tracks down her cheeks as well as the deep red at the corners of her eyes betrayed the fact that she’d been crying—was still crying, as a matter of fact.

Clarke felt something clench in her stomach, and her movement toward Lexa lowered in speed. The closer she got to Lexa, the slower Clarke felt herself moving, as thought she was dazed, in a dream; a ghost haunting her own body.

If anyone asked her later, Clarke would tell them she didn’t know _how_ she knew, exactly, what might have brought that look to Lexa’s face. Not one of joy upon seeing Clarke; one of dread, of guilt, of panic, even. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was simply that she and Lexa could still read one another so well. Maybe it was just that ethereal, unknown, ‘sixth sense’ that only a parent could lay claim to.

Whatever it was, Clarke knew that something had happened to to the kids before Lexa was even able to find her voice. She shook her head a little, trying to deny her knowledge, but she could read Lexa’s face even more easily than she could read her own, and everything she needed to know just then was etched in the deepening creases of Lexa’s face as she began to break.

Clarke just stared at her, shaking her head again as they paused mere inches from one another.

“No,” she whispered, and Lexa’s face crumpled instantly in response, confirming Clarke’s worst fears.

Clarke’s mind quickly went blank as her legs collapsed beneath her, and she landed hard in the dirt, her knees slamming into the earth and surrounding pebbles carelessly. Lexa came to the ground with her, their arms a tangle as they struggled to hold onto one another, the blood rapidly exiting Clarke’s face until she was as ghostly pale as Lexa and Octavia had been.

“No,” she said again. Like the universe would listen to the command of one girl, like one star or two flickering out amidst an endless span of stars made a bit of difference to the universe. Like she could make the facts change by resisting the truth, denying it.

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke as they sat in the dirt together, and Clarke gasped repeatedly, finding herself suddenly unable to remember how to draw breath.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa cried into her shoulder as they clung tightly to one another, rocking gently as their combined grief collapsed in on them both. “I’m so sorry, I— Clarke, I—”

Nearby, Echo and Octavia were taking turns filling in the others, and Lincoln had Octavia tightly wrapped up in his arms, offering her a comfort he knew was nowhere near sufficient enough for the pain that was inside her. Niylah put her hand over her mouth, her heart breaking for them all as the information and then the horror of it sank in, and she had to turn away as the wails from Clarke lodged themselves deep inside her heart, inside the pulse of her veins, and turned her stomach sick in sympathy.

Clarke sobbed and choked in breath for a long time, and cried for an even longer time, and Lexa held her helplessly all the while. She was crying as well, and wishing she could at least _try_ to comfort Clarke, but there was no comfort for her to give, and her tongue shattered in her mouth when she tried to speak, because there were no words, either.

“Take me,” Clarke gasped, when she had managed enough of an intake of air to speak again. “Take me to them, I need to see it myself.”

“There is.. nothing to see,” Lexa responded, still hovering outside her body. “Nothing you would want to see.”

“ _Don’t_ tell me what I want,” Clarke snapped through her tears, her voice breaking and her tone almost accusatory—close enough to it for Lexa to feel a sort of secondary hurt, anyway. “I want to see them. You _take me_ to them, Lexa. Take me to our kids, damn it!”

Clarke’s renewed sobs began with the end of that sentence and Lexa felt the last of the hard shell she’d been trying to hold in place all day, as it melted away uselessly. She’d thought she might be done crying, for a few minutes at least, but she’d clearly been wrong. It had only taken seeing Clarke’s face to bring her to exactly the same level of pain she’d had when she first saw the bodies—maybe even more, because she now felt Clarke’s pain, too.

Clarke’s arms were reaching for her as what little she had managed to pull together fell apart once more, and despite herself, Lexa felt herself beginning to fall apart again, too. She wrapped her arms around Clarke, and Clarke wrapped her arms around her as well, and they clung tightly to one another as it set off a fresh round of tears from them both.

They held onto one another in the dirt as they watched their world ending right before their eyes; as they watched everything and everyone else cease to exist, until it was only Clarke, and Lexa, and their shared grief left, pleading with a universe that simply didn’t care.


	13. This is Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa reunite under dark circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mutually consensual, mutually rough, sex fueled by mutual grief. And mind the ratings change please, we’ve officially moved from ‘unrated’ to ‘explicit’, shocking I know. >_>

Got a big plan, this mindset, maybe its right

At the right place and right time, maybe tonight

Obsessed about it, heavy for the next two days

It's just like all the others it'll go away

Or maybe this is danger and he just don't know

You pray it all away but it continues to grow

They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do

But their lips met, and reservations started to pass

Whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last

Either way he wanted her and this was bad

Wanted to do things to her, it was making him crazy

And now he wants to grab her by the hair and tell her:

I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl, so lovely, it feels so right

I want to hold you close; soft breasts, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear, I want to fucking tear you apart

\- She Wants Revenge, “Tear You Apart”

Clarke didn’t entirely remember when or even how she and Lexa had wound up in the tent, sitting side by side on Lexa’s bedroll, staring silently into space. Her throat was raw and her eyes stung from the sheer amount of tears she’d shed. The sun had long since set, and every so often the strains of some vaguely intrusive sounds wafted their way from Octavia and Lincoln’s tent, suggesting they were reacquainting with one another and clinging to whatever was left of their appreciation for still being alive.

Clarke, however, felt no such appreciation and, judging from the darkening expression on Lexa’s face, she was feeling slightly less than grateful to be alive herself. Clarke wondered offhandedly if she could even feel anything _except_ grief anymore, or if she would spend the rest of her breathing days filled with nothing but the weight of her losses. She found herself going strangely numb at the thought—as though she couldn’t bear to have anything at all inside her, including the unrelenting grief.

Her hands, seemingly with a mind of their own, reached in the near darkness for Lexa. She slid her hand around the back of Lexa’s neck slowly, her fingers brushing lightly over the fresh scar there; and when Lexa gazed back, her face was pleading in the flickering firelight, and her head tilted slightly as Clarke’s fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Please,” Lexa whispered, her tongue thick with grief, and need, and fear, and something else that ran even deeper within her; something even more primal that she couldn’t quite put a name to. She swallowed hard, her voice strained. “I can’t feel anything. Make me feel something, anything, _Klark_.”

Clarke understood; both the feeling, and what it was that Lexa, too, seemed to be craving in that moment—and so she pulled Lexa to her roughly, her fingers tightening in her unruly hair and giving it a hard tug as their lips met in a crushing, bruising kiss. Lexa kissed her back just as hard, their tongues dueling with one another as Lexa leaned further into Clarke, immediately shifting to straddle her lap.

Clarke pulled her hair tighter between her fingers as Lexa moved to push her onto her back. Clarke acquiesced briefly, but quickly rolled them over, pressing Lexa into the dirt as she ground her hips against hers. They broke the kiss briefly for air, and Lexa gasped as Clarke’s hands tightened around her wrists, driving them further into the earth.

Lexa growled into the kiss as Clarke tightened her hands until she was sure she would leave behind bruises, and Lexa arched beneath her. The instant Clarke’s grip on her reddened wrist slackened, Lexa used the brief moment to roll them again, ignoring the hard edge of a stone that dug into her knee painfully as she quite literally tore Clarke’s shirt open down the center. It was Clarke’s turn to gasp then, slightly surprised by Lexa’s unusual aggression, but quickly melting beneath her as she bit and sucked at the tender flesh of Clarke’s breasts, drawing both blood and moans from her raw throat.

Clarke tried to roll them over again, wanting Lexa’s clothing off as well, but Lexa leaned forward, putting more weight on Clarke’s pinned arms and looking down at her with a challenge in her eyes. It was written in her blown out pupils, in her labored breath and heaving chest, in the snarl that came from deep in Lexa’s throat when Clarke wrenched her hands free and dug her nails into Lexa’s ass instead. She pulled Lexa down hard as she lifted her hips up against her, and Lexa let out a needy moan, her hips grinding against hers with more purpose.

With some difficulty, given her six year diet of alcohol and not much else, Clarke flipped them again, pulling one corner of the tent loose as they slammed into the burlap wall hard, tearing the edge of it a bit. She rose onto her knees, pulling her belt loose as she pressed her aching heat into Lexa’s abdomen, and they unashamedly ripped into each others’ clothing.

When they were both fully undressed and their clothes lay discarded around the tent, carelessly torn to shreds, they groaned in unison at the feel of the others’ exposed flesh.

It had been six years, and two lost children, and the death of all hope, and the dissipation of all desire to continue surviving, and a strange, heavy cloud that seemed to settle around them as their efforts quickly grew more desperate and furious.

Nails raked down Lexa’s back as she slammed Clarke to the ground again, and Lexa’s legs spread around Clarke when she regained the upper hand. It rapidly became somewhat difficult to distinguish whether they were fighting or fucking; a distinction that lost importance just as quickly as it had popped into her head in the first place, as Lexa wrapped around her once more. Clarke rested on top of her again now, one hand gripping both of her wrists tightly into the burlap and dirt, and her other hand cupping Lexa’s soaked, grasping folds before sliding two fingers easily inside her.

Lexa’s back arched and she moaned Clarke’s name, trying to pull her deeper inside herself. Her legs bowed as Clarke carefully added a third finger and thrust into her heat with everything she had. Clarke fucked her harder, and harder, until Lexa felt like she would bruise inside, and still she begged Clarke for more. She wanted to be fucked senseless, fucked black and blue and numb and stupid. She wanted to be fucked so hard she forgot all of her pain; fucked until nothing existed beyond the punishing pounding of Clarke between her spread thighs.

Clarke leaned into her further, releasing her wrists to instead grip her hair again, forcing Lexa’s chin up with a hard yank and drew a deep, gasped moan from her throat as Clarke curled her fingers into her front wall.

“ _Klark_.. fuck, do—don’t stop—” Lexa babbled, her legs bowing to bracket either side of Clarke’s hips as Clarke fucked into her harder, forcing her back into the wrecked pile of bedding and sliding down her body. Clarke bit down unapologetically on the inside of her thigh, drawing the dark, bitter blood onto her tongue before doing the same to her other thigh.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Clarke mumbled between hard bites to her thighs, her fingers finding a punishing pace in Lexa’s slick heat as her lips wrapped around Lexa’s throbbing, attention-starved clit. Lexa cried out loudly as Clarke roughly worked her tongue in small circles over the head of it, causing Lexa to shudder as she threw her head back into the dirt with a loud cry.

Clarke backed off slightly, making her way back up Lexa’s body with her fingers still buried deeply between Lexa’s dripping folds. Lexa grunted in disapproval, trying to angle her hips so her clit brushed Clarke’s thrusting fingers, but Clarke anticipated the move and adjusted accordingly, keeping just out of reach. Clarke idly thought she might even try to edge Lexa into unconsciousness, just so she could wake her again to fuck her even harder.

Lexa let out a much more feral growl as she clamped her legs around Clarke and flipped them over once more. She didn’t care, she didn’t care anymore; not about anything. Not about how loud they were, or whether they tore the entire tent to shreds or the entire camp or even each other. Let it all burn; nothing mattered.

Lexa slammed Clarke roughly into the ground as they landed, her eyes growing darker when Clarke’s bright blues widened at the unexpected power shift. The last time Lexa had tried to be hard for Clarke, she’d been weak, pathetic even. She’d fallen apart and cried, and Clarke had reassured her that she didn’t need Lexa to be—as Lexa herself had put it—' _more commanding_ '. That was, unless _Lexa_ needed to be more commanding.

And, frankly, right now Lexa wanted to swallow the Earth whole and spit it out of herself as fire and ash. She wanted to command everything and everyone; command them all to go to hell and leave her alone to pour all of her pain into Clarke’s body and take Clarke’s pain into hers in return.God, Lexa just wanted to fuck Clarke until they both _died_ ; until every inch of her ached, and was covered in bruises and deep scratches that would take weeks to heal; until she lay bleeding and empty and unable to breathe in the dirt. She wanted to _ruin_ Clarke, and she wanted Clarke to destroy her right back.

Clarke was briefly thrown by the shift, but seemed to understand what Lexa was searching for; despite it being something Lexa barely understood _herself_ in the moment.

Clarke withdrew her fingers and quickly, before Lexa had even a moment to complain about the sudden loss, she squirmed beneath Lexa’s kneeling body until she was eye level with Lexa’s swollen, needy heat, and her tongue quickly lashed against her clit, drawing a long, low moan from Lexa that was so deep it seemed to Clarke that it nearly shook the ground.

Clarke clamped her fingers to Lexa’s hips with a bruising force, her nails digging in hard enough to draw more blood as she gave a hard yank and forced Lexa's down to meet her mouth. Lexa gasped helplessly, her own hands grappling in the dirt for purchase as she was knocked off balance and all but fell onto Clarke's face. Her palms scraped the ground as she thrust her hips, riding Clarke’s tongue with a series of gasps as the small stones in the dirt ripped at her tender palms—softened by her time in space, and easily made raw and bloody.

Raw and bloody was truthfully just _fine_ with her, and Lexa continued to thrust herself against Clarke’s skilled tongue, relishing the pain that burned deep in her knees, and in her hips and ass where Clarke’s nails still drew fresh streams of blood, and in her hands that were quickly becoming scraped and burned from the friction of the rough burlap mat floor against her space-softened skin.

She was incredibly close to coming, and Lexa quickly tore herself from Clarke’s mouth, not quite ready for release; not yet. She’d be tired, she knew. Bruised and bloody, her thighs coated in her own arousal. No, if she came now, she’d likely want to sleep after--not that she'd be able to, of course--but either way, she wanted to give Clarke as good as she’d been getting, first. She wanted to punish Clarke as delightfully as Clarke was punishing her.

Clarke looked mildly confused when Lexa rolled free of her, but didn’t have much time to question it before Lexa was back on top of her, lower than before. Lexa dipped forward, kissing Clarke roughly and tasting herself on her lips and tongue with a muffled grunt in the back of her throat. Clarke moaned back deeply as Lexa pressed her thigh to Clarke’s heat and then broke the kiss and lowered her head to swirl her tongue over Clarke’s firm nipples.

Clarke cried out, her fingers tangling their way into Lexa’s hair once more as Lexa sucked and nipped at her breasts until they, too, were bruised, and Clarke was absolutely drenched. Blunt teeth scraped over the tender flesh along the underside of her breasts, and then down to Clarke’s soft belly and thighs; all of which Lexa unabashedly licked and sucked and bit into, driving Clarke very nearly insane.

“F—fuck, Lexa, just—fuck me, just fuck me,” Clarke gasped, squirming beneath Lexa, unable to take the annoyingly slow pace she’d suddenly adopted.

She hadn’t quite expected the slow pace to be so _suddenly_ abandoned, but that’s precisely what happened as Lexa slid down and immediately slid her tongue as deeply as she could inside Clarke. Her tongue circled her entrance, her teeth nipped at Clarke’s soft folds and then lightly scraped over her sensitive clit, drawing both an arch and a scream from Clarke that just spurred Lexa on even harder.

Clarke felt herself teetering on the edge and quickly adjusted her position, shifting until her head was closer to Lexa’s hips and, with Lexa face-deep in her fluttering core, Clarke thrust her fingers back into Lexa’s slick heat, quickly working her to the edge as Lexa did the same.

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure in her memory if they’d ever came together before, but she thought, if they hadn’t, this was as good a time as any for such a feat. Lexa sucked roughly at her clit at the same time she worked Lexa’s, and they cried out—just barely out of sync—as they came in rapid succession.

Lexa collapsed against her immediately afterwards, fresh tears pouring from her eyes silently and without effort. Her body was too exhausted to cry—something she didn’t think she’d ever felt before and wasn’t all that keen to feel again, truth be told.

They lay there, gasping for breath in the sweaty aftermath of their shared grief, their shared rage; and though they didn’t _quite_ realize it yet, they were both quickly lost to similarly shared haunting thoughts as they lay panting and bleeding in the dark of the now semi-collapsed tent. Their skins a latticework of scratches and deep bruises and welts, coated with blood and sweat and arousal, their bodies limp and desperate for a sleep that would likely continue to elude them despite the energy they’d just expelled.

Lexa thought perhaps she’d never sleep again; she was far too afraid of what lingering sick images might await her unconscious mind, and she didn’t think she could quite bear being lost in the uncontrolled dreamscape that likely held nothing but horror for her anyway.

Clarke, on the other hand, wished she could do nothing but sleep for the rest of whatever time she was forced to continue shuffling across this shitty planet; but her body refused to cooperate, and instead she lay wide awake beside a wide awake Lexa until the sun had risen once again and a slightly uncomfortable Luna had called into the tent for them to come to breakfast.

To their credit, not a single person mentioned the injuries that covered both Clarke and Lexa as they arrived in torn clothes, sipping warm drinks as they sat in a vaguely uncomfortable silence. Clarke still bore the results of Gaia’s efforts as well, and the marks on her face were even darker in the new sunlight, but Lexa couldn’t find it within herself to care whether anyone thought it was the result of their mutual punishment the previous night.

Lexa couldn’t bring herself to care about anything, actually; though she found herself understanding even more fully why Clarke had hidden away so wholeheartedly and for so long. If Clarke had felt even half as bad as Lexa did now, Lexa honestly thought Clarke had been entitled to be in even worse shape than she’d been, because Lexa had never felt this bad in her entire life. Not ever. There was no loss, none, not even that of sweet, pure Costia—that had wrecked her as badly as the loss of Madi and Aden now had.

Truthfully, Lexa couldn't imagine she would ever be whole again, and with that thought in her mind, she ordered her troops to return to Arkadia. They would take the other bodies home to the people who loved them, and have a proper funeral. Today, Lexa needed to honor her children by bringing them home.

Her wrath could wait; war could wait.


	14. More Than You & Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's army returns to Arkadia; Monty and Raven scramble to solve their respective puzzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief, non-detailed descriptions of human remains

The storm is coming but I don't mind

People are dying, I close my blinds

All that I know is I'm breathing now

I want to change the world, instead I sleep

I want to believe in more than you and me

But all that I know is I'm breathing

All I can do is keep breathing

All we can do is keep breathing now

\- Ingrid Michaelson, “Keep Breathing”

Harper was the first to make it back to Arkadia.

Indra had sent her ahead on horseback to give Bellamy and the others the news and to begin readying for the funeral. Her heart was heavy in the pit of her stomach and she felt sick inside. She’d found herself ruminating on Clarke and Lexa’s loss the entire trip and torturing herself with memories of the Arkadian kids.

Reese. A small, shivering Reese had shown up at what was then still Camp Jaha, clinging to the bare back of the horse that had saved her life in the frigid northern _Azgeda_ territory. Malnourished and weak with exhaustion, Reese had insisted that the horse be checked over for injuries first, fed, and given water. Only then did she let Jackson check on her and finally accept the water Harper brought her.

Mika had shown up at the gates one day with Sayen, Takami, and Arvid—the only remaining _natblidas_ after a particularly nasty incident with some of the more extreme members of _Audaskai_ after leaving the mountain. Arvid was unconscious—injured and septic—and Mika, Sayen, and Takami had carried her for days after Kane sent them to Arkadia. All of them had frostbite and were near starved. After Jackson had amputated four of her toes, Harper had stumbled upon Mika near the lake, retraining herself to fight with her new center of gravity.

Then there was Tris. Tris, who had only narrowly survived the explosion on the bridge near the hundred-and-two’s dropship. Years later, she had come off worse in a confrontation with the boar she’d been after. Bellamy and Lincoln had both pulled her from the next day’s hunting party with orders to rest her freshly-stitched leg. Unhappy about Bellamy’s order and Lincoln’s follow-up order, Tris had covered herself in mud and crept through the forest behind Harper’s hunting party undetected for hours. When the party reached the end of the stubborn boar’s tracks, Tris was already kneeling in the mud skinning it. Harper had swelled with pride then, though she’d tried not to show it too much as she’d scolded Tris for taking unnecessary and dangerous risks—right before taking her on as her second.

Harper shook off the reverie, forcing her mind away from the kids. There was no use ruminating on Clarke and Lexa’s losses or her own; what was done, was done. A warrior doesn’t grieve until the war is done, and their war was just beginning. This was a dangerous time for emotions; that’s what she had told Monty as they kissed goodbye at the gates of Arkadia, the tears already threatening to spill from his eyes.

_Monty_ , she’d said softly, and with as much love as she could, as they lingered by the gate. Her lips were forced into a sad smile as her eyes began to water too, and she shook her head rapidly, silently begging him not to break in front of her. _Monty, my love, please.. You know this is a dangerous time for emotions. I have to walk out that gate now, and I can’t do that without knowing you’re gonna be okay._

The tears were brewing in his eyes, and she saw his lips curling slightly as they began to form around the same words that came from them each and every time Harper left the gates.

_Someone else can do it. It doesn’t have to be you; someone else can do it._

_Someone else shouldn’t have to_ , she replied each and every time. _They’re our people, too. It only works if we all try to carry each other and share the weight, the burden. Share in the things we have to do to survive._

She would always cup the back of his neck then, and gently tug him forward to rest her forehead and tip of her nose against his. Their gaze would be locked so tightly that, for a moment, nobody else even existed; it was just them and the love that continued to grow between them more and more with each passing day.

She would smile, cupping his face gently with both hands and whispering, _ai sonraun laik yu sonraun, Monty Green. Ai tombom laik yu tombom. Ai hod yu in otaim, mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim._

[ _my life is your life, Monty Green. My heart is your heart. I love you, may we meet again._ ]

Seeing the massive structure that spiked into the sky ahead, Harper once again snapped herself into the present and accordingly leaned into JJ, picking up the pace. The more time Arkadia had to brace for the army’s return and subsequent need for food and medical attention—not to mention a large funeral and likely an impending attack from Wonkru—the better.

Harper would do what needed to be done; only after that would she lay down her weapons and climb into bed with Monty; let him wash away the sting of their sins, of their guilt, and help her forget her pain. Only when the battle was done, did a warrior let herself mourn, let herself shatter.

♾

By the time the others had arrived, Arkadia was braced and ready. The bodies were quickly taken inside the Eligius ship, where Monty waited down in MedBay to perform the job he’d been the only one to volunteer for; trying to identify the bodies so they could be separated and properly shrouded before the funeral.

Raven had moved to a console in MedBay against her better judgement. She didn’t want anything to do with the bodies, but she needed Monty standing by, and if she was honest, she was grateful for the company, too. She was curled in a chair with a bandana over the lower half of her face when the bodies were brought in and placed on the various stretchers. She did her best to ignore what was going on around her, and was thankful she had a few million lines of code to decipher as a distraction.

They worked quietly for quite some time.

Raven was neck deep in code, searching for a way into Mount Weather’s security system. The servers at the mountain were powered and functional, but seemingly impenetrable. She’d given herself another two hours of banging her head on a proverbial brick wall, before she would swallow her pride and call for Sinclair; she was hoping to avoid it entirely, considering he had also been particularly devastated by Reese’s death and deserved his time to mourn just as much as Bellamy did.

She was trying hard not to ruminate on the fact that the remains they’d brought home from the half-assed funeral were scattered on five tables just a few feet behind where she was working. The thought of disassembled corpses alone made Raven’s stomach churn, much less the thought of the pieces being parts of Madi and Aden; and so she tried very hard not to think about them, or about the sour stench of burnt flesh that now filled the enclosed area.

Hours passed, and Raven hadn’t yet found anything in the lines of code she was scanning. Monty was humming quietly to himself as he delicately examined the remains, and it was starting to grate on her nerves for no real or particular reason.

“Why did you volunteer for that job, anyway?” Raven finally asked in exasperation, when the quiet and the humming and the scent of singed human remains became too much for her to cope with all at once.

Monty looked up at her, his voice kind but matter-of-fact when he replied, “Someone has to. I’m no healer, but I know enough to do the bulk of the sorting.”

Raven swiveled the seat around to look at him, her gaze studiously avoiding the remains on the exam tables before him. She didn’t even know why she was pushing the issue so hard; only that there was a large stone that sat heavy and dense in the pit of her stomach, and he stone was somehow swirling her emotions around like oil in a tub of water, forming weird connections between unrelated feelings. This one in particular was anger at Monty for so casually volunteering to reassemble the corpses of the kids, and guilt that she hadn’t been able to stop any of this.

“Yeah, but why _you_? There’s other people that could do it. People with more medical training. It doesn’t have to be you, let someone else do it.”

“Someone else shouldn’t have to,” he said, his throat threatening to close as he swallowed back his emotions. “The only people here with more medical training than I have, shouldn’t have to worry about sorting the remains of someone they loved. I can’t do anything else to help them right now.”

Monty’s face was heavy, guilty even, and Raven softened at his pained expression. He was trying, too, just like she was.

“What about Emori?” she suggested. After all, Monty may not have known Aden or Madi, but the other kids had grown up here. Surely it was affecting him as much as it was Bellamy—who, last time she’d seen him, was crying as he and Echo held each other near the gates.

Monty shook his head. “She’s staffing the actual MedBay patients so Abby can be with Lexa and Clarke. And now Harper is helping her, because Echo’s taking care of a really drunk Bellamy while being pretty decently drunk herself.”

Raven breathed out a rapid puff of air in aggravation, blowing the stray hairs at her forehead up briefly. She rubbed her face tiredly, offhandedly thinking how nice it would be at the moment to be trashed herself.

“I should’ve known you’d have a still going,” she finally said, turning her chair back around to face the console. “Hope whatever’s coming out of it tastes better than the shit from the one on the Ring.”

Monty paused, looking up at her. “The Ring? My old still was there, and working?”

“It took some time, but Roan and I got it up and going,” Raven nodded, her ponytail of braids bobbing a bit in response to him. Monty smiled just a little, and Raven glanced over her shoulder, the corners of her lips twitching slightly into what might have been the beginnings of an almost-smile, particularly when she saw the look of pride on his face.

She opened her mouth once more, intending to tease him—perhaps something about his hooch being strong enough to make one sprout hair in places you wouldn’t think were biologically possible. Monty would appreciate the odd sentiment, she knew. Before she had a chance, though, her mind flung forth a reminder that caused her face to go dark very suddenly and very rapidly. She swallowed with some difficulty, forcing her voice to sound both crisp and detached when she finally spoke.

“We fixed it right before Lexa’s coma. So, just in time to get Clarke started on the path to extreme alcoholism, actually,” she muttered. Her voice was even sharper and more bitter than she had anticipated, and she glanced unsurely back at Monty once more to gauge the look on his face.

Monty, as usual, had only a solemn, sympathetic, and sad look on his face—maybe even a hint more of guilt behind his dark, gentle eyes.

“I’m sorry for what you all went through, Raven. What you’re still going through. I wish there was a shortcut through grief and guilt that I could show you,” he sighed, hanging his head just a little.

“Monty, it’s o—“ Raven cut herself off, a very strange, very faraway look coming over her; steadily taking her over.

“I know that look. What is it?” Monty said, frowning a little as Raven started typing furiously on the console.

“Shortcut. When you’re breaking into someone else’s code, what do you do when you want to get in faster next time?”

Monty’s face lit up with the same dawning realization Raven had just had.

“Go back to the hole you made last time and start poking at it.”

“Exactly. It’s easier to tear something that’s been broken before. What do you wanna bet there’s a way into the system left over from hacking the air filtration system?” Raven’s tongue peeked between her lips, and she leaned closer to the screen, as though her proximity might have some effect on the computer’s level of cooperation.

♾

Monty called her name three times before Raven actually heard it, and Raven startled in her seat, confirming that she hadn’t heard it the first two times.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Monty said sincerely.

Raven just waved him off, pulling it together. “What’s up, Green?”

Monty shook his head a little, a strange look on his face as he gestured at the collection of assorted limbs before him, though Raven was already looking away once more. “Something’s not right about this.”

Raven’s stomach pitched and she felt like her entire body was made of stone as she muttered back quietly, “Nothing’s right about this, Monty.”

“No, I mean—these bodies, they’re.. do you see these arms, here?”

Raven kept her eyes focused on the computer screen, rubbing her aching hip while making a mental note not to let Abby see her doing so. She could go without another scolding about sitting at the computer for too long, no matter how right Abby probably was about it.

“Monty, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve actually been trying very hard not to look at any of what’s going on over there. I don’t need to see the bodies of—” Raven cut herself off when her tongue quickly grew thick in her mouth and her voice caught in her throat. She opted not to finish the sentence, feeling like she had a better chance of not crying that way.

“Can you?”

Raven shut her eyes briefly, taking a slow, steadying breath. The very last thing she wanted to do right now—or ever, really—was look at yet another corpse of yet another person she’d loved and lost.She started wishing she hadn’t sent Luna and Murphy away so she could work, or agreed to work on the MedBay computer so Monty could do double duty as body part sorter and hacker.

“Do I have to?” she finally responded, her voice weary and full of defeat.

Monty paused briefly, as though he were considering his options, but ultimately he replied, “Yeah. Trust me. You wanna see this.”

“Doubtful,” she muttered, but turned her chair and pushed herself up anyway.

Monty waved her to where he was standing, near the third table, and she unhappily joined him.

“What am I looking at, besides nightmare fuel for the rest of my life?” She asked dryly, finding herself still unable to look directly at the remains dotting the tables around them.

Monty pointed in front of her, and Raven reluctantly looked down, swallowing hard—and then paused, her brow furrowing as she leaned in for a closer look.

“You see it, don’t you? And here, too.” Monty pointed at a set of remains on another table, and Raven followed him with increasing anxiety crashing in her chest. She once again leaned over, and once again saw precisely what he was talking about.

Raven looked up at him, the blood rushing from her face in an instant, her brows quickly knitting. “Get Abby. No, wait. She’s with them. Get Echo and Emori. If they see it, too, then we get Abby.”

In a worried sort of urgency, Raven moved as quickly as she was able back to the first table Monty had pointed out, as Monty went to the console and flipped a switch, turning on the loudspeaker of the Eligius and speaking in an impressively calm voice, considering.

“Paging Echo and Emori, you’re needed in MedBay for..” Monty paused briefly, trying to work out what he could say without causing a panic and drawing Abby in as well—and unfortunately he couldn’t seem to come up with much. “Uh.. an emergent… paperwork.. thing. Stat.” He hung up the speaker and slapped his hand over his forehead, feeling like an idiot.

Raven just looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and mildly judgmental expression. “Really?”

“I panicked.” Monty winced as he rejoined her.

“No kidding.”

When Emori and a rapidly-sobering Echo showed up in tandem, Raven and Monty were already waiting by one of the tables. Echo kept her eyes focused on the ceiling, refusing to look at the remains, but dutifully followed Emori over.

“This doesn’t look like paperwork,” Emori said dryly, crossing her arms as she moved beside Monty. Echo lingered on Raven’s other side, and Monty gestured at the detached limb that sat before them.

“What do you see?” He asked quietly.

Emori leaned over, shrugging a little. “An arm?”

“Look closer,” Raven advised, and Echo lowered her eyes finally, frowning as she almost instantly leaned in for a better view.

“Fuck,” Echo murmured, looking back up at Raven and Monty quickly, her brow lined with worry and fear on her face.

Slowly, Emori looked up as well, and it was almost as if she were talking to herself when she responded softly, “Tattoos.”

“There’s more. Most of the.. parts.. are so burned that there’s nothing to see, but there’s at least two full sets of tattooed arms here.”

“Madi and Aden don’t have any tattoos,” Echo said slowly, seemingly in a state of confused disbelief.

“What about the kids from Arkadia?” Emori looked to Monty, who shook his head.

Monty shook his head. “None of them have tattoos on their arms.”

“These bodies don’t belong to the kids,” Emori was stunned, shaking her head as she uncrossed her arms slowly. “But if these bodies don’t belong to the kids, then..” She trailed off, trying to wrap her brain around it.

“The kids were probably attacked, and somehow, they won.” Echo looked over the remains again, as though she were unsure whether she’d truly seen what she’d seen.

Emori lifted her brows, clearly impressed. “Pretty badass kids.”

“Yeah, but that means we have a small problem, and a really big one too, now,” Raven interrupted.

“Who do these bodies belong to?” Emori mumbled distractedly, looking them over once more.

“And where the hell are the kids?” Echo added, fear and worry spreading on her face as she quickly headed for the door. “Emori, get Abby. Make sure she sees what we do, too. Lie about what you need her for. We don’t say anything to Clarke or Lexa until we know for sure.”

“Wait!” Raven called after her, hobbling towards the door. “Where are you going?”

Echo paused only long enough to call back over her shoulder, “To get Octavia and Lincoln. We need more trackers for the search party.”

“Get Roan, too,” Emori called after her, her eyes and now her hands carefully inspecting the other remains. “He’s an excellent tracker.”

It was almost comical how quickly Echo skidded to a stop, turning and popping her head back into the MedBay door, just looking at Emori with a raised eyebrow. It took a moment for Emori to feel eyes on her, but when she lifted her head, she realized they were all looking at her, with expressions ranging from Echo’s impressed confusion to Raven’s amused, knowing smirk. Emori’s cheeks flushed and she quickly turned her back to them, busying herself with a different set of remains and saying nothing.

“Yeah, after we find the kids, I’m gonna need more details on.. whatever this little situation is about,” Echo pointed at Emori, feigning a stern look. Emori merely waved her off and continued her inspection, but her cheeks were glowing red as she did so, leading Monty and Raven to exchange a smirk as well.

Raven, feeling very nearly euphoric at the possibility of Madi, Aden, and the others being alive, draped her arm loosely around Emori’s shoulders. When Emori straightened up to look at her, Raven just smiled sweetly at her.

“Just a heads-up.. If you want to keep the fact that you’re hooking up with the king of Azgeda on the down-low, you might wanna call him _King_ next time,” she advised gently, patting Emori’s bicep before dropping her arm and heading back to her console.

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that,” Emori replied dryly, but after Raven was facing away, she smiled a little to herself. She couldn’t be sure whether it was because of the pleasantly warm thought of Roan, or the fact that Raven and Echo felt comfortable enough to include her in their teasing; but as she headed out the door to find Abby, Emori suspected it was a little of both.

♾

Madi squinted in the glaring light of the sun, sucking in a breath through her teeth when she saw the heart of New Polis. Had she really only been here a few days ago? It had looked so.. settled, then. So lived in. And now, thanks to herself and Emori, and to Clarke, too, the place looked like it hadn’t seen life in years. It still smoldered slightly, and Madi felt dazed as she whispered aloud without realizing it.

“This was us,” Madi whispered in a daze, almost to her self. “We did this.. _I_ did.”

Reese and Aden both looked at her with concern as Tris crept back to them quietly from the other side of the woods with Mika hot on her heels.

“They seem to have moved everyone from this section into the buildings closest to the mountain,” Mika reported quietly.

“I wonder why not the mountain itself,” Madi glanced in the direction of the mountain, her brow furrowing as she began trying to work it out. 

“What do you mean?” Aden frowned, squatting beside her. He seemed to have--for the moment anyway--forgiven Madi’s actions the previous night, and Madi was grateful for the reprieve.

She gestured towards the large mountain that loomed forebodingly in front of them, striking towards the sky. “They have a perfectly good bunker there, with real beds, and medical stuff, and temperature control, but they’re choosing to live out here, right near these burned-out husks? The whole place smells sour with ash, but they’re still not using the mountain at all. Why?”

The kids looked to one another, each shaking their head after trying to work things out for a moment.

“What does that mean?” Aden asked, and suddenly it occurred to Madi that it wasn’t just Aden looking at her for instructions; it was all of them. Reese, Tris, Mika, and Aden all watched her expectantly, and Madi tried to snuff out the fluttering anxiety in her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to work it out in her head herself for a moment or two.

“It means we’re going in there. We’re gonna find out what’s in there, and why they don’t use it or even go near it,” she finally replied firmly.

When Madi moved back into the forest, she didn’t need to look behind her or even listen, to know that they were all following her. If she was honest with herself, she was somewhat surprised by how _right_ it felt to be leading them. Clarke, Lexa, and Roan had never asked to be leaders either, she supposed; maybe sometimes it’s just what happened, whether it’s what you wanted or not. Maybe sometimes you were just born for something, and you had no say in what that something was.

Madi rested her hand on the hilt of Needle at her hip, and took a deep breath as she led her people through the winding forest and towards the unknown mystery of the mountain bunker with a renewed confidence, and the heaviness of responsibility on her shoulders that, strangely enough, felt right as well.


	15. Four Percent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa worries about her new drive; Raven makes discoveries concerning the Flame, Eligius, and Lexa's missing data.

Too hard to give, too hard to live

I can't stop dreaming, do you know what I mean?

I wanna stay inside your arms, I want to feel fine

You know I need you to make it real

Escape, escape, escape your misery

Stop the motion, I got the solution

Wake up, focus, live and get free

Time is running out, ghost keeping me alive

I get what it means—you have to survive

\- Skip the Use, “Ghost”

Lexa and Clarke were sitting together in the cafeteria, their hands entwined as they each picked at a plate with their free hand. On anyone else, the arguably corny sight might have made Raven roll her eyes—but knowing what they’d been through and were still going through? It just seemed soft and sweet, and somehow _right_. You looked at them and you just knew they’d been through hell and back more than once; you also knew that if hell itself couldn’t separate them, surely nothing else could.

But then, Raven was used to knowing things; so much in fact, that she was deeply surprised on the rare occasion when she was wrong about something. It happened so infrequently that it pitched her world into a tailspin when it happened, and always sent her scrambling to learn more about whatever it was. She had no choice but to learn what she didn’t know—it was the only way to staunch the overlapping feeling of dread and guilt that uncertainty provoked in her. Not knowing the answer was a sickness, and easily curable by acquiring more information.

Raven wasn’t surprised _or_ wrong very often.

She was born to study, to learn, to devour information and absorb it in such a way that it would be easily accessible to the other parts of her brain years later, if the occasion should ever arise to use that information.

She’d always felt like she was different from the other children, and not because she had a drunken, abusive mother. Hell, more of her friends had alcoholic parents than not down in Mecha Station. No, she was different because she sat in the front row in all of her classes, even the ones she hated, when the other kids were fighting over the coveted back row. Placing herself literally front and center, even though she couldn’t bear the thought that anyone might be looking at her.

If they were looking at her, they were definitely judging her; maybe even hating her because her clothes were moth-eaten and stained, because she was skinny as a rail—a sickly-looking kid, or because sometimes she smelled strange when they were out of soap for weeks at a time. Maybe even just because they knew she was smarter than them despite all of those things, and the classes they struggled in were ones she didn’t even have to try in.

She frequently stole food from the other kids’ lunch boxes, and one time, Finn had caught her. Rather than turn her in like any other kid would’ve, he came to school with two lunches the next day, and every single day afterwards.

Years later, he’d begged her to tutor him, teased her about it only being fair, since he gave her food all the time. She’d gone to her first session with him, anticipating having to give him what all guys wanted from you, all the time—and it wasn’t better math skills.

She’d decided that she probably _would_ give him what he wanted; he was the only good thing in her life, and if that was all he wanted in return, Raven supposed she could live with that. At least he was good looking, and more importantly, she truly liked him. She’d liked him long before she’d loved him.

She hadn’t expected that he genuinely wanted her to tutor him and nothing more. In fact, when she’d crawled into his lap a few months later, he’d denied her the kisses she sought because they still had 19 minutes left of their study session.

“Always so serious,” she stuck her lower lip out as far as she could, pouting as she toyed with the hairs at the back of Finn’s neck.

“It _is_ serious, Raven. If I flunk math, I’ll end up in janitorial for the rest of my life. You deserve better than a guy who—“ Raven cut him off by capturing his lips with her own, cupping her hands gently over his cheeks and gazing into his eyes as she broke the kiss.

“You’re everything I deserve and more.”

That was when she’d first begun to realize she was falling in love with him; that first tutoring session, when all he wanted from her was, as he’d put it, “that brilliant mind of yours.” When he surprised her the way no one else ever had; when he continued to surprise her over and over again, constantly blowing her supposedly brilliant mind and proving her wrong. He made her world tilt sideways and upside down until she didn’t know her left from her right; he made her guess, he made her rethink things. He made her see the world in new ways and always defied her expectations. He made the world new and interesting and unknown again.

The ill-fated spacewalk had been only one in a long line of surprises he’d produced for her, but it had changed everything between them, and tainted everything that came after.

At least, until Luna.

Luna had surprised her by how much she wasn’t tainted by _anything_ —not Raven’s baggage or even her own. She was pureness and light, wrapped up in the body of a warrior with a heart nearly too large to even fit in her chest. She had seen dark things and done dark things, and she carried them still, but now it was with the stance of someone who had come to accept their burden and taken ownership of their pain. It was with the acknowledgement that people could change, could find their humanity, could do better.

Raven hadn’t seen Luna coming until it was far too late. The air between them was electric from the word go, and despite their extensive individual mental and physical trauma, there was an immediate softness and understanding between them as well. It was different from Finn, different from Wick. It was practically insane how quickly Luna began to feel like home to her; still more insane how Murphy had gravitated toward them and seemed to fit so snugly into the spaces that lay between Luna and herself.

They were—all three of them—broken in some very profound and similar ways. The pieces of them that were missing, that had been destroyed, created gaps that lined up quite perfectly with one another; as though the three of them were a small jigsaw puzzle, and each of them required the other two in order to feel whole.

Murphy had surprised her, too.

Unfortunately, surprises weren’t always so great, and some cases of Not Knowing were significantly worse than others. This current case of Not Knowing was, Raven was positive, one of the worst cases she’d ever encountered, and the weight of it was visible in her slumped shoulders and the dark rings around her eyes as she approached Lexa and Clarke.

She joined them quietly, folding her arms on the table and resting her chin on them, gazing up at Clarke’s lowered head.

“For what it’s worth,” Raven opened, “It was Bellamy’s call. Octavia and Roan just followed it.”

Clarke scoffed, blowing her hair off her face. “Since when is Bellamy in charge around here?”

Raven blinked at her best friend slowly, and her tone was mild but dry when she replied, “Since we left the planet, and Arkadia voted for Bellamy to be in charge around here.”

Clarke fixed her with a sullen look, giving up the pretense of being interested in the food as she rested her free arm on the table. “Can I do something for you, Reyes?”

“Three somethings, actually. First one is, don’t blame me. Bellamy sending the search party out before telling you and then stashing the weapons and disabling the rover was shitty and cowardly, and I told him so.” Actually, she’d told Bellamy it was shitty and cowardly, and that it was absolutely the right thing to do; they didn’t need to know that, though.

“Second, they are _gonna_ find the kids. That’s the search party I’d want looking for Luna or Murphy or me. The kids can obviously handle themselves—they took down a bunch of grown-ass men and even disposed of the bodies. Those kids are more capable than either one of you are right now and you both know it.”

They both gave her the same withering look, and under better circumstances, Raven might have commented on the fact that they’d begun absorbing each others’ mannerisms. However, they had more important things to discuss than Clarke’s imitation of Lexa’s dismissive hand-raise, or Lexa’s way of flicking her hair back into place the way Clarke often did.

“What’s third?” Clarke asked sourly. Lexa distractedly stuck a lettuce leaf in her mouth and seemed to have to remind herself every so often that she meant to be _chewing it_ , not just holding it there.

“Well, I found something. About the Flame.” Raven shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar sickness in her gut that always accompanied the feeling of Not Knowing or the admission of a mistake or failure. She took a slow, steadying breath, and Lexa seemed to snap back into it at the mention of the Flame.

“When we copied the Flame’s data to the new drive, the code was compromised, because Lexa started to code, like, medically. And the data transfer was interrupted, with four percent left to go, so there’s some corrupted files, but it’s impossible to tell which ones without going line-by-line.”

Raven looked at them solemnly, but neither of their facial expressions changed; they both stared at her with confusion and concern.

“Raven, can you.. try to explain any of this in like, dumb regular person English, please?” Clarke finally replied, looking vaguely annoyed in addition to very confused.

“Uh, where should I start?”

“I understood up to, ‘I found something’,” Lexa volunteered tiredly.

Raven paused a moment, trying to translate what she knew into—as Clarke had put it—regular person English.

“ _Sheidheda’s_ code was merged with Lexa’s in the transfer. Right before the transfer was interrupted, Sheidheda tried to tag along, but he was cut off. The 4% of data that was lost included the information on the conversion. The file was still actively changing at the time, so it was one of the newest files to be uploaded, and that’s why it was incomplete. So there's no way to know _what_ files are corrupted, just that there _are_ corrupted files.”

They were still staring at her, but with a fresh sense of urgency. Lexa looked positively sick, her cheeks nearly green as she rocked unsteadily in her seat and unconsciously let go of Clarke’s hand, instead raising it to her forehead as if to soothe a migraine.

“ _Sheidheda_ is.. inside me? Part of me?”

“Could he take over? Or destroy her.. other files, or whatever?” Clarke looked panicked, and she quickly turned to Raven, her voice cracking just slightly in her incredibly forced attempt to sound calm.

“No, nothing like that.” Raven cocked her head to the side a little as she again searched for words a layman would understand; simultaneously lamenting once more how difficult it was sometimes to properly communicate something you understood so well and so easily, to someone who didn’t have access to the same information you did.

“It’s more like part of his data got mixed into yours, like a computer virus. All he did was open a back door that let a snippet of his code in, but it was mostly incomplete. You might be four percent more vulnerable to injected code in the future because of it, so if you plan to replace your mind drive again, you’ll wanna do it in the safety of a faraday cage, probably,” Raven didn’t even pause for a breath as she interrupted herself, “A-and you have no idea what some of those words are, do you? I’m sorry.”

Lexa smiled politely, still looking somewhat sick. “I retained the information I had access to in the Flame, including Becca’s knowledge of technology. I understand you.”

Raven smiled back reassuringly. “Okay. Okay, good. So, to recap,” she used her right index finger to tap her left one,” One: you’re not _Sheidheda_. You might have some weird new annoyances pop up now and then, but really, who doesn’t? You might have some emotions that don’t completely make sense—which, again, who doesn’t—or have some new triggers, things that never used to bother you but does now. Stuff like that.” She tapped her second finger as she continued, “Two, _Sheidheda_ is gone. All that’s left of him is a couple of random drops in the DNA hat - so you might like apples more now, or be worse at chess, but you’re not any more likely to commit genocide than you ever were.”

Raven rested her hand lightly over Lexa’s, trying to look reassuring, but Lexa gently slid her hand free, looking away from both of them.

“That isn’t entirely true, Raven. I’m four percent more likely to. That is what you’re telling me, isn’t it? That now I am ninety-six percent Lexa, and four percent _Sheidheda_.” Lexa stood then, shifting away from the table and leaving her meal untouched.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke protested, reaching out for her hand.

Lexa carefully pulled her hand back again, her voice stressed but not unkind. “No, Clarke. Please. I promise, I am not angry with anyone. If this was to be my fate, so be it. I am fine, I would just like to be alone for a little while. Please don’t follow me,” Lexa pleaded, before turning on her heel and quietly leaving the table.

Clarke stared after her, her face covered with clear concern. Raven, whose eyes had started watering, cleared her throat, attempting to pretend she wasn’t holding back tears as she appealed to Clarke.

“Th—that’s not exactly how it works, I mean it’s more like—“

Clarke was still watching Lexa’s retreating form, her voice soft. “I know. It’s okay, it’s not your fault, Raven. She doesn’t blame you and neither do I. Nobody does. She’s just.. got a lot in her head right now.”

The tears threatened to spill from Raven’s eyes even as she opened her mouth to protest, but Clarke wasn’t finished and cut her off. “You _saved_ her, Raven. I can’t ever thank you enough for that. Or for raising our kids when we couldn’t. Or for saving the entire human species, more than once. Without you, none of us would be alive.”

Raven gave up; the tears rolled down her cheeks as she grabbed Clarke’s sleeve and used it to wipe her tears away. Clarke gave an indignant huff, and Raven mumbled into her sleeve, “It’s your fault I’m crying.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose a bit, but reached out to gently pet the back of Raven’s head as she continued, “Someday we’re gonna come back from all this, Raven. The world will change again, and you’ll be in every history book.” Clarke leaned forward a bit, making sure that Raven’s eyes were meeting hers before she concluded.

“You’re a hero.”

Clarke rubbed her back gently before standing up, gently nudging Raven’s shoulder with her hip. “Just remember I picked you first when they carve your face into the side of a mountain.”

Raven just hiccuped in response, the tears falling freely as she felt herself begin to melt down into an emotional landslide that she couldn’t figure out how to stop. Murphy paused, on his way out with a stack of sandwiches in his hands, and looked from Clarke to Raven and back again before joining them with a sigh of exasperation.

“Jesus, Griffin. What the hell did you do to her?”

Clarke put both hands in the air, shrugging before grabbing she and Lexa’s trays from the table. Before she could leave, however, Raven called out between her subsiding tears.

“Clarke, wait! There’s something else.”

“Uh-oh.” Clarke stopped in her tracks, groaning. _Of course_ there was something else. There was _always_ something else.

“Not.. not necessarily an uh-oh,” Raven replied, tapping her fingers rhythmically on her thigh, trying to center herself. Murphy rested his hand on her shoulder, his thumb lightly massaging the spot on the back of her neck that always seemed to combat her anxiety. “When _Sheidheda_ tried to hitchhike, he made a sort of.. hole, in Lexa’s code. At the same time, there was a similar hole in the local network, too. I found it when I was trying to hack into Mount Weather. Some of the code looked really familiar, so I started digging around, and its because it’s code I’ve seen on the Eligius server.”

Clarke stared at her blankly, and Murphy’s hand had stilled in favor of redirecting his energies into staring at her blankly as well.

Raven took another steadying breath. “It was like.. like a key, unlocking something. It dumped a huge data file onto the server that wasn’t there before. Like a.. almost like a message of some kind. I don’t think it was Sheidheda, I think it was the Flame itself.”

Clarke frowned, worry suddenly creasing her forehead. “A message? From where, the Flame? What was the message?”

Once more, Raven had to force herself to say the three words that were the absolute bane of her entire existence.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “Yet, anyway. I’m trying to understand the message, but it’s heavily encrypted. It’s going to take some time—probably a lot of time, actually. But Clarke, it means that.. somehow, the Flame was designed to unlock something on the Eligius server. There was nothing about it in any of Becca’s journals, and since the Flame itself is fried..” Raven trailed off.

“We can’t unlock the door?” Clarke guessed, looking significantly more stressed than she had only moments ago.

“ _We_ can’t,” Raven agreed. “But I can. I mean, I think I can. It’s just.. It’s going to take me awhile to do it. It’s a lot, and we’ve kinda.. got some other shit hitting the fans at the moment, too. But Clarke.. it means the importance of the Flame probably—“

“Goes way beyond just being the Commander,” Clarke murmured quietly, rubbing her face tiredly as the pieces began to fit together inside her head.

“And when Lexa finds out..” Raven gestured quietly.

“She’s going to blame herself for destroying it,” Clarke concluded, her voice pained.

“It’s not her fault,” Raven stated unnecessarily.

“I know. It’s not your fault either,” Clarke touched Raven’s shoulder lightly, exchanging a look with Murphy, who got the message. He nodded slightly, sitting beside Raven at the table. Clarke hoped he’d be more capable of reassuring Raven than she’d be at the moment.

“I know,” Raven replied, lying through her teeth.

Though her poker face was pretty good, Clarke knew her just a little too well not to know what was going through her mind, and responded adamantly, “It really isn’t your fault, Raven. Thanks, for letting me know about the message, but let’s keep that between us for now, okay? At least until we know what the message is. Lexa’s got enough to deal with right now, and this can wait.”

Raven glanced to Murphy, her discomfort with Clarke’s request written all over her face. Murphy clearly didn’t think it was the right play either, but he shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s right about it being able to wait,” he pointed out, and Raven couldn’t quite argue with him on that point. She nodded her acquiescence to a relieved-looking Clarke, who thanked her again before heading out of the cafeteria.

♾

Clarke made herself busy for several hours. She swept every floor she could access, cleaned the windows on the cryogenic pods, and checked on every patient in MedBay so many times that Abby finally threw her out, claiming she couldn’t work with Clarke “hovering like a honeybee”. By the time she’d finished slicing up apples for dinner, she’d run out of things to do, and made the executive decision that Lexa had brooded alone long enough.

Lexa was laying in their room in Arkadia, on her back with the lights off and her eyes closed. Clarke froze in the doorway, a slight chill vibrating its way through her body. She knew it wasn’t real, but gazing into the darkness at the faint silhouette of Lexa, she could swear she saw bundles of medical equipment and yards and yards worth of tubing—could swear she smelled antiseptic and heard beeping so loud it muffled her own involuntary gasp at the ghostly image in her head.

“Clarke?” Lexa said—from the bed, from directly in front of Clarke. Lexa, who was sitting up now, with concern on her face and very clearly real, and in the room, and not hooked up to anything. In fact, since Clarke had still not responded, Lexa was now getting out of the bed, growing more deeply concerned as she slowly joined Clarke in the doorway.

She gazed at Clarke quietly, carefully weaving her fingers through hers. Her voice was incredibly gentle as she squeezed Clarke’s hand lightly.

“It’s just a bad memory,” she whispered, her lips brushing the tender shell of Clarke’s ear. “I am here, I am real, and you are with me.”

Clarke slowly brought her troubled gaze to meet Lexa’s, and she sounded ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry. There’s.. actual, you know, things going on, and I came here to comfort you. Not get trapped in a doorway by nothing.”

“It is not nothing,” Lexa replied gently, leading her to the bed, where they both sat side-by-side on the edge. “Your mother once told me that our brains have certain responses to situations or people that have hurt us before, and it’s your brain trying to protect you from those feelings.”

Clarke looked at her own hands in her lap, her shoulders slumped. “I feel like I’ll never stop seeing you like that. Lifeless.”

“Is that what you see right now?” Lexa gently pushed her hair behind her ear, tilting her head to the side and lifting one eyebrow.

“No,” Clarke admitted in a hushed tone. “Not right now.”

“Then perhaps the answer is to just keep looking at me,” Lexa suggested, curling her fingers through the honey gold strands and wrapping them in loose tendrils around her fingers. Clarke’s eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed softly, leaning into her touch.

“I don’t care what Raven’s numbers say. There’s no way this heart of yours is anything less than a hundred percent Lexa,” Clarke informed her, resting her hand on her chest.

Lexa’s cheeks burned with shame as she released Clarke’s curls. “We should not talk about that.”

Clarke furrowed her brows, curling her knuckles under Lexa’s chin, gently tilting her head back to meet her gaze. “I thought we could talk about anything. _Ain shugeizen laik yu shugeizen_ , remember?”

[My shame is your shame.]

Lexa made a face, shaking her head a little. “Clarke, what is there to say?”

“You tell me,” Clarke shrugged, trailing her fingertips lightly down her arm. Lexa sighed softly before pulling her arm back.

“Please, don’t do this, _Klark_..” She scooted back on the bed, resting against the headboard and pulling her knees to her chest. “All I want to do is sit here and be angry with Bellamy, and worry about Aden and Madi. I do not wish to—to set any of this aside to apologize right now.”

Clarke swiveled on the bed so she was once again facing her, and she hoped she looked at least half as confused as she felt just then. “Hang on, back the ship up. What is it you do not wish to apologize for right now? Did you do something I don’t know about yet?”

Lexa just stared at her with a mild amount of disbelief, her eyes squinting slightly. “I.. believe you know what I did, Clarke. That _was_ you in the tent the other night, wasn’t it?” Clarke was quiet for a brief moment before she snorted, laughing and waving her hand a little at an indignant Lexa. “It is not funny, Clarke! I hurt you.”

“And I hurt you,” Clarke countered. “It’s also the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life and was everything I wanted and needed right then. And you.. are _apologizing_ for that.”

Lexa flushed quickly, and grew even redder when she felt Clarke’s hand rest against her stomach as she settled beside her. “You’re covered in bruises and scratches.”

Clarke’s lips brushed her earlobe gently, sending a shiver through her. “I like it. Makes me feel even more yours. I know you like it, too,” she purred into Lexa’s ear, her lips gently brushing her earlobe.

“Is that so?” Lexa asked, her voice a few octaves higher than she’d intended. “What makes you think that? I don’t remember saying anything about that..”

Clarke smiled; she’d missed this. The banter between them, the flirtation they let build up and build up until the coiling feeling in their guts couldn’t take it any longer. Clarke had never _wanted_ before Lexa. She’d wanted, in a general sense—the way an infant wants to be held, or an animal wants to run around. She’d never wanted in a way that would make her question everything else she ever wanted—because she’d never felt desire so deeply or profoundly as she felt towards Lexa. A want so deep it was practically a need.

“The first time we..” Clarke started softly, propping her head up and beginning to rub gentle circles over her stomach.

Lexa sighed lightly, relaxing under her touch. “Fucked?”

Clarke laughed softly, burying her face in her hair momentarily. “Okay, I was gonna be a little more delicate about it, but this works, too. So, the first time we _fucked_ , in the tent. My clumsy ass started to fall over, cause I was trying to get all my clothes off, and I accidentally scratched you. And you made it pretty clear you liked it..” Clarke finished the story off with an eyebrow wiggle that was somehow both crass and sweet at the same time.

Lexa’s cheeks burned with the memory—though parts of it were missing now, it seemed, which felt alarming despite being such a small, non-consequential thing. Who cared if that had happened when they were on the war table, or after they moved to the bed? What difference did it make? None.

Still.. she couldn’t quite picture in her mind where the moment had happened. She could remember Clarke scratching her, and starting to apologize, and she had—of all things, really— _growled_ and put Clarke’s hand back onto the gouges in her thigh. She could remember the fire in Clarke’s eyes when she got the message.

But it was like that entire memory had Lexa herself, as a physical entity, cut out of it. She remembered everything Clarke had said and done, she remembered her own reactions. It was like her body had been removed from the picture, and her essence was watching it as an observer, without feeling entirely a part of it.

Apart, distant, removed—those were words you usually used to describe other people in your life when they were shut off from you. Lexa had frequently felt those things in relation to others over the years, but never to the degree that she felt them now, and never before had she felt them towards herself. Never had she felt quite as removed from her own life and body as she felt right now.

“What are you thinking about?” Clarke whispered, her nails scratching lightly over Lexa’s chest, drawing her back into the moment.

“You,” she replied.

“Hmm, that’s not good for me. You had a really sick look on your face, so if you were thinking about me..”

Lexa groaned at herself, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t think Clarke would see through her quickly no matter what; it was just what Clarke did, what she had always done.

_You want everyone to think you’re above it all, but I see right.. through you._

The table. Clarke had backed her up into the table. Later, they had kissed near it, and then..

“I was on the table. You were on the ground.”

Clarke smiled a little, still looking concerned, and Lexa hurried to elaborate. “I—I couldn’t remember. For a moment, I couldn’t remember.. where we were, when that happened. I remembered everything else about it, everything about you—the way your hair smelled, the way your breath kept catching in your throat, the feel of your hands when—well, you know,” Lexa trailed off, and Clarke studied her quietly, running her nails lazily back and forth across her collarbone.

“It’s scary,” Clarke whispered, “The holes, in your memories. I know it scares you.”

There was a comfortable silence between them for several minutes then, before Lexa finally responded in a very small, very shameful tone.

“Yes.”

“You’re wondering how much of that night—when we thought the kids.. You’re wondering how much of that was you and how much was _Sheidheda_.”

Her response took a bit longer this time, but eventually Lexa whispered back, “Yes.”

“It was you, Lexa; just like it was me. You don’t think I’d know if it wasn’t you in there?” Clarke asked, tracing her fingertips lightly over her brow, down her cheek, and over her jaw. Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed, surrendering under Clarke’s touch as she continued. “Listen to me. You are not _Sheidheda_ , and neither is he anymore. You’re Lexa, and only Lexa.”

Lexa began to protest, huffing a bit indignantly when Clarke stopped her with a raised hand and wrist flick that was almost as dismissive as Lexa’s own. Lexa was loathe to admit it, but she far preferred being the one making the gesture, and being on the receiving end was legitimately aggravating her in all the most childish of ways.

“And the memory stuff—there’s no reason to be embarrassed about it, Lexa. It’s not like you had control over it. You didn’t make those holes yourself.” Clarke’s tone had rapidly grown heavy with guilt towards the end of that sentence, and Lexa frowned as she looked back to Clarke’s face, where it was also written plain as day.

Lexa rolled to her side, facing her and pressing their palms together, her voice soft but firm. “Neither did you, Clarke.”

“I picked up the bottle. Every single day. Nobody forced my hand, I just did it. I wanted to be numb, I wanted to be gone. The kids—“ Clarke shut her mouth, just shaking her head a little at the emotion that welled behind her eyes and threatened to explode out of her.

“The kids have done better than you think,” Lexa said softly, reaching to cup her cheek gently. “I wish they had both of us the whole time as well, but it is not the worst thing that they were raised by people we know, and love, and trust. There’s a _Trikru_ saying, “it takes a village to raise a child well” and I cannot think of a better village than _oso_ _seingeda_ to have raised Aden and Madi. They will not suffer for our mistakes and weaknesses, Clarke.”

[our family]

The look on her face suggested Clarke was not entirely convinced about that.

“Only _we_ can suffer for what _we_ have done,” Lexa added quietly.

A strange look crossed Clarke’s face then, and she glanced at the painting on the wall—an unremarkable print that, once upon a time, had probably been on thousands of walls in thousands of bedrooms. Not the art Clarke would have chosen for a spaceflight long enough to require cryo pods, but some people were strange; even more had bad taste. At any rate, Clarke was picturing a completely different painting in its place at the moment; one she’d laid eyes on quite recently.

“We bear it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “So they don’t have to.”

“Yes,” Lexa sighed, tracing a fingertip lazily around Clarke’s eyes, down her nose and across her lips; it was like she was memorizing the lines and dips and curves of her, like she planned to sketch Clarke later and wanted to ensure she had all the details correct.

They lay in silence after that, both of them lost in their thoughts.

♾

The combined stress of Lexa’s data corruption and the new file—which remained absolute gibberish as far as Raven was concerned—was beginning to get to her, and she knew it. She’d even begun toying with the idea of taking a break to go wail on a punching bag or maybe even Murphy for a bit, but frustration with herself prevented her from leaving her post at the console.

They all had jobs to do.

With some difficulty she’d finally set the Eligius file down mentally and was back at work poking for security holes in Mount Weather’s system. The place was really well-barricaded, digitally speaking, and Raven normally would’ve been impressed—but she really needed to get in, and so found their diligence incredibly annoying and inconvenient. Short of waltzing into the mountain physically herself, Raven was beginning to think that it was a lost cause.

“..’lo. M… ther, h— ing Arka—” The sudden loud crackle of static nearly gave Raven a coronary, and the very broken voice over the radio was even more startling. She grabbed the radio, adjusting the tuning slightly, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.

“This is Arkadia — we are receiving you, barely. Say again?” A static that grew softer then louder came over the line, and Raven repeated herself. More static.

“—Kadia, repeat, this is Mount Weather hailing Arkadia, are you receiving us?”

Raven pumped her fist in silent victory, savoring the moment of triumph amidst her recent failures.

“Mount Weather, that’s affirmative, you are loud and clear now. Who is this?”

There was a pregnant pause over the line, and then a plaintive, incredulous, and very familiar voice said hopefully, “Raven?”

Raven’s eyes went wide and round, her spine suddenly ramrod straight, and she shook her head slightly in case she was dreaming or going insane. She knew that voice, would recognize it anywhere. She fumbled with the radio speaker, nearly dropping it from her shaking hands as she leaned forward, her voice already wavering slightly as she spoke into it, dazed.

“Madi?”


	16. Hide & Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready or not, here it comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Veridissima asked about timeline (as far as how long Lexakru and the Eligius have been on the ground.) The timeline in general is sketchy at best, just because it's not extraordinarily important in this book (thank goodness, last book was rough on me, y'all) But! As of present time in this book, Spacekru/Lexakru has been back on the ground for *approximately* a week or so. 
> 
> I've got some more bonus trivia at the end of the chapter, if anyone is interested. :)
> 
> Anyway, on with the show.. or, rather, the thing that's attempting to fix the show.

We're only young and naïve still, we require certain skills

The mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins

Can't help myself but count the flaws

Claw my way out through these walls

One temporary escape, feel it start to permeate

We lie beneath the stars at night,our hands gripping each other tight

You keep my secrets hope to die, promises—swear them to the sky

The bittersweet between my teeth trying to find the in-betweens

Fall back in love eventually, as it withers, brittle it shakes

Can you whisper, as it crumbles and breaks?

As you shiver, count up all your mistakes

Pair of forgivers, let go before it's too late

\- The Naked & Famous, “Young Blood”

**Night, Somewhere in** **_Trigeda_** **, Three Days Ago**

Emori rolled over on her sleep mat, trying to find a comfortable position that allowed her to keep her hands pressed to her ears. The sounds that wafted in the evening breeze to her from Octavia and Lincoln's tent were merely blush-inducing; the ones from the Commander's tent were downright upsetting. Emori didn't begrudge them their grief, she just wished she had chosen a spot a bit further away. Something out of earshot of the filthy, uncomfortable sounds of their punishment sex, where sleep was a possibility.

When she heard their tent ripping and saw the entire structure shudder with the force of whatever they were doing to each other in there, Emori gave up. She kicked off the top layers of her bedroll and stretched as she stood. She began to head through some of the brush, thinking a night walk to the river might clear her head and also perhaps avoid the unsettling sounds long enough for Clarke and Lexa to fall asleep or at least finish this round.

She had only made it a few yards when she heard a masculine voice from just beside her.

"You shouldn't wander the woods alone at night."

Emori scowled in the direction of the voice. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind, champ."

"Champ? That's a new one for me."

Emori felt her throat go dry and nearly choked on her tongue when she recognized the voice. Slowly, a sliver of moonlight revealed--

" _Jok_! I'm sorry, _Haihefa_. I didn't know it wa—“

[Fuck! / King]

Roan quickly put his hand up. "That isn't necessary. I'm not the king of anything these days."

Slowly, Emori felt her shoulders relax just slightly, though she remained alert. She didn't know Roan, but she knew _Azgeda_ had long been of questionable trustworthiness, even for someone who wasn't _frikdreina_. She shuddered to think how they might have dealt with their own _frikdreina_ who survived past infancy.

[mutant]

"A man without a clan," she noted, a bit surprised when he shrugged it off uncomfortably.

"A king with no nation behind him is no king at all," he offered by way of response, and there was a heavy sadness in his eyes that something in Emori had--regrettably, she felt--already begun responding to.

She thought of his losses, which inevitably led her to think of her own. She felt her chest grow heavy as she saw Ilian's lifeless body before her once more; saw the burnt limbs of the children's bodies in the fire pit. Saw her brother smiling at her and then saw his remains again; the spray of bullet wounds that still haunted her dreams, turning them into nightmares where she woke up with the name of someone she'd lost on her tongue.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never had a clan," Emori offered, despite her mind screaming that it was a terrible idea. A mistake, to share her harsh and ugly truth with the leader of the most ruthless faction their world had known until _Audaskai_. This was a very large, very stupid, and _very_ unnecessary risk, and surely nothing good would come of it.

Roan, however, glanced directly at her deformed hand and said only, "I assumed as much." He shook his head slightly before continuing. “The way we treat those who are different is.."

"Unnecessary,” he finally settled on, but there was a storminess in his face now that hadn’t been there before.

Emori felt slightly off-kilter; she hadn’t expected that. She couldn’t immediately form a reply, and in that moment of quiet, more disconcerting sounds made their way over from Lexa and Clarke’s tent, and Emori found herself cringing at the same time Roan did.Roan’s voice was slightly choked up when he spoke after a lingering silence, his face gloomy and lined with worry, even in the dim moonlight.

“I helped raise them,” he murmured into the stillness of the forest night, and Emori suspected he didn’t realize he’d said the heavy sentence aloud. She also didn't have to ask about whom he was talking.

“I’m sorry,” Emori replied sincerely. “I can’t imagine.”

Roan slowly turned his gaze to her, his voice quiet as he regarded her. “I don’t believe that. You’ve lost. I can see it all over your face and in the way you carry yourself. Grief has a posture, and I know it when I see it. Who was it that you lost, Emori?"

Emori flushed at the softness in his voice, particularly when he said her name. She hadn't even realized he knew it, actually. She shrugged dismissively, looking away from him. “Does it matter who?”

“Yes,” Roan replied simply. “It always matters to those left behind. Who were they to you?"

That hadn’t been a sentiment she’d expected from the King of _Azgeda_ , either. She’d known him for all of three minutes, and the damnable man had already surprised her in a multitude of ways. It was equal parts exciting, infuriating, and terrifying. Rare, and disconcerting. Definitely dangerous; she was playing with fire, and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“My brother was in TonDC,” Emori finally replied. She wasn't ready to discuss Ilian; not yet and not with the strangely comforting stranger that did not seem at all kinglike at the moment.

Roan’s expression grew even darker, if such a thing was possible, and he shook his head disapprovingly, a sad scoff exiting the back of his throat. “When _Audaskai_ attacked. When _Azgeda_ did.”

Emori studied him intently for a moment. “You knew about it. Tried to stop it. I know you did. Echo told me you tried.”

“Not hard enough,” Roan mumbled ashamedly.

Emori was only starting to reply when the quiet of the night was once again broken by the noises from the Commander’s tent, and she and Roan both cringed in sync. Emori glanced at him unsurely, working her lower lip between her teeth for a minute before she made a decision.

“Fancy a depressing, moonlit walk by the river, in exactly the opposite direction of the.. ah, other camp?”

Roan rubbed his brow tiredly, wincing as the sounds continued. “Quite a bit, yeah.”

They began walking away from camp side by side, and hours passed as they made their way down the river, away from the children's camp. Emori felt mildly dazed; they had much in common, and had she not known otherwise, she might never have guessed at his place.

Roan was quiet, thoughtful. He didn't brag, and didn't seem to be aware of his own strength even as he related to Emori all the reasons he might have broken over the years; all the ways he might have turned as cold and cruel as his mother had been, had wanted him to be. She had tried to turn him into a monster, tried to turn Echo into one, too. Echo was better than him, he said. She had seen the deepest of horrors and committed many as well, and spent all of her time since then trying to fix and heal and protect her people. She took a bullet for _Wanheda_ , saved Lexa on the Ring--twice--helped develop synthetic Nightblood in a quest to save the world, and helped raise Madi and Aden. What had _he_ done?

"You helped raise them, too," Emori quietly parroted his words back to him, when he went quiet, watching with a soft gaze as the light behind his eyes began to fracture. "You don't have to blame yourself until you hate yourself to grieve for them, Roan. You can just.. grieve. Sometimes a thing just is what it is; it gets broken, and can’t be fixed. It's not anyone's fault.”

They'd sat quietly for awhile then, the smell of ash still hanging thick in the dewy air.

When they were nearly back to camp, they had been in a comfortable quiet for awhile before Roan began glancing at her—briefly, but often. It increased in frequency until it was happening so often that she suddenly came to a standstill, looking at him with the vaguest of annoyance on her face.

“What? You keep looking at me like you’re expecting me to pickpocket you or something.”

Much to her surprise— _again_ —Roan’s cheeks reddened quickly, and she furrowed her brows in an even deeper confusion.

“I, ah.. I apologize. It’s been.. awhile, since I’ve..” Emori just slowly crossed her arms, fixing him with a vaguely bemused gaze, and he turned even more red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was trying to figure out how to ask if you, ah—“

“Wanted to go back to your tent?” Emori supplied, running her eyes over him, shrugging one shoulder. “Sure.”

Roan’s face flushed even further. “Oh. Well, uh, I was actually going to ask if—“ He paused once more, glancing at Emori’s hand. “Does it.. cause you any discomfort? Does it feel.. strange, or painful for you?"

"I--uh, what?" Emori blinked slowly, mildly dazed and unsure whether she’d heard him correctly. “Uh.. No. No, it just.. It just feels like a hand, I guess.”

Roan nodded a little. “Good. That’s good.”

“I guess.” Emori furrowed her brows briefly, but had practically no time to process any of it before she realized that she’d just propositioned the _King of Azgeda_ and invited herself back to his tent. She must have been struck completely stupid at some point to have done that, and she found herself heavily considering bolting into the forest and never returning. Her cheeks and ears were impossibly red, and she lowered her head with an impatient scoff at herself.

“I’m sorry for—uh..”

Roan actually smiled at that—and Emori was loathe to admit that, like everything else about him, it was attractive and genuine. “Inviting yourself back to my tent? Don’t apologize. Why do you think I asked what I did?”

Emori frowned, feeling vaguely disoriented. “What does one have to do with the other?”

Roan didn’t answer her. He merely reached out and took her affected hand in his own, holding it as he turned back towards camp. Emori stumbled behind him, the entirety of her equilibrium thrown off by the sudden inequality of gravity that accompanied Roan acting like her hand wasn’t strange; like it didn’t bother him in the least. Was that even _possible_?

And either way, did it even matter?

They didn’t know each other. He was a king; she was _frikdreina_. His people would truly never take him back if they knew, and that was what she tried to explain to him afterwards, when they lay panting beside each other. As they lay together in the dark, both coated in a sheen of sweat, Emori sensed that this one time, grief-fueled thing might already be a little more complicated than she initially thought.

Because after hushing her explanations, Roan had fallen asleep beside her; and with both of his hands still holding her mutated one against his bare chest. Because she wasn't pulling away from him yet and had no intention of doing so. Because as she lay there quietly, tracing random shapes into the scarred skin of his chest, she didn't want to have to stop doing so. Didn’t want to head back to her own bedroll alone, when she could instead stay with this strange, beautiful man that didn’t care about her freak hand or questionable past. 

It wouldn’t end well; she wasn’t stupid. She knew that, and she would explain that to him more clearly in the morning.

Or perhaps, she later thought, rolling over with him once again as the morning dawned, she would explain it to him more clearly after they arrived back at Arkadia.

Actually, maybe she would just wait until after the funeral.

She had kept Ilian from coming any closer to her cursed life for years; certainly she could keep a _King_ she barely knew at bay for a few days.

♾

**Eligius - Present Time**

By the time Monty had gathered the others into MedBay, Raven was talking Tris through accessing the Mount Weather system with Monty assisting.

Lexa, Clarke, and Bellamy were all milling nervously, occasionally crossing paths with one another without acknowledging each other, every one of them frustrated nearly to the point of madness by their inability to help. They’d been able to talk to the kids only briefly before Raven had forbidden anyone to cross the invisible line of demarcation that fell roughly three meters behind where she sat; crossing it would be punished by banishment from MedBay entirely.

So they paced; a respectful distance from Raven’s personal bubble of anxiety and computer code none of them understood anyway.

Emori had taken a break from treating patients at Abby’s insistence—well, more like Abby had thrown her out to get some sleep, as if that was a possibility.

Instead she was working with Roan—who hadn’t gone with the search party due to lack of able-bodied horses available—and with Luna, to find and document any possible identifiers on the remaining body parts. Just in case they had someone back in New Polis to miss them. She found herself idly scratching her nails over the back of Roan’s neck as she watched his talented hand sketching out the tattoo designs, but quickly pulled her hand back when she heard him sigh contentedly. He looked mildly disappointed, but Emori tried not to see it as she gravitated to the table where Luna was working instead.

After they’d gotten the kids back, then; when they’d ended the war. Then Emori would let him down—and harshly if need be—but she didn’t anticipate it being much of an issue at that point. Roan would choose his people over some _frikdreina_ girl he’d just met. Obviously. So maybe she wouldn’t have to let him down at all; perhaps when he realized it was time to be a leader again, time to set an example again, he would be the one to let her down easily, and they would both go back to their normal lives.

After the war. That’s when it would be over. Until then, Emori rationalized that a few neck scratches were ultimately irrelevant, and within a few minutes she’d returned to his side and taken up scratching the back of his neck as she began sorting through the remains once more.

She pretended she didn’t hear his even-more-contented sigh this time.

Meanwhile, Tris’ voice filled the room as she repeated lines of code back to Raven and Monty that made absolutely no sense to anyone else in the room.

“Okay, Tris. Try going back to that third menu, and see if there’s anything else that might fit. It might say “defense” or just.. have some kind of weird name, maybe. Something that doesn’t seem to make sense.”

“There’s something called ‘Operation Veil’,” Tris replied after a moment. “Could that be it?”

“Maybe,” Raven’s brows furrowed as she listened to Tris reading off more lines of code for a moment, before Bellamy interrupted.

“No, I recognize that. That’s the acid fog. Would that even still be useable?” He glanced to Raven, his face solemn.

“No. All of that was completely destroyed the first time around. Unless they have something else we don’t know about, the missile is the only weapon there.”

“Excuse me, missile?” Murphy interrupted, returning to the room with Raven’s requested coffee. He set it down on the desk in front of her, frowning. “Are we talking about a _missile_ right now? Seriously, whe—“

Murphy was cut off by a sharp yell from Tris, and every head in the room turned towards the radio during the brief moment of silence that followed.

There was a loud commotion on the other end of the line, and they all listened with horrified looks as a cacophony of sounds made its way intermittently over the radio. There were shouts, heavy thuds, someone yelling for Reese, a single scream from Aden that was cut short, and then, finally, there was nothing but static.

Raven had gone pale, and Clarke was barely on her feet, weaving with dizziness, emotion, or both, as Lexa’s wide eyes focused entirely on the comparatively quiet radio. The sound of the static on the line had every single one of them tensed and crowding closer to an increasingly anxious-sounding Raven, as she tried desperately to adjust the signal and reach the kids again.

“Tris? Madi! Anyone?” Raven’s voice was very nearly panicked now, a tense energy filling the room as they all waited with fingers crossed and bated breath for a response from Mount Weather.

When it came, however, none of them were ready for it.

“Raven. That is you, isn’t it? It’s been a long time,” came the response, in an unfamiliar voice.

Raven frowned. “Who is this?”

“Gaia,” Lexa muttered, slamming her palm against the wall. “It’s Gaia.”

“Correct. Is that Lexa I hear? If so, that’s good news for the kids. They might actually survive the day.”

Raven snarled into the speaker. “Don’t you lay a finger on any of those kids! They aren’t part of this.”

“I disagree. They killed several of my people, broke into the mountain, and now it appears the little _natronas_ were looking to launch a missile at us. That’s a pretty big move. In fact, I’d say the biggest threat against New Polis right now is your wayward pack of pups here.”

[Traitors]

Lexa tried to snatch the radio from Raven’s hand, and Raven ducked away as Clarke grabbed for Lexa unsuccessfully. The three of them wrestled for a brief moment, with Raven leaning further and further away to avoid Lexa’s grasp, until Roan intervened and wrapped his arms around Lexa, gently but firmly pulling her back. He said something softly to her; something only the two of them could hear, and she seemed to settle down just slightly. At least, she stopped grabbing for the radio speaker.

“If you hurt a single hair on any of those kids’ heads..” Raven threatened, glancing behind her to make sure she was safe from further intervention from Lexa.

“Your kids are fine. For now, anyway. If you want things to remain that way, we want Lexa. You have two suns to make that happen before I can no longer guarantee their safety. Discuss it with your people. I’ll wait,” Gaia informed them sharply.

“Okay,” a shell-shocked Raven murmured back, her hands shaking slightly.

On one side of her, Lexa and Clarke’s faces were stormy; on her other side, Bellamy, Luna, and Monty looked incredibly concerned. Roan and Emori looked worried, and Murphy was pacing like a caged tiger with a very dark look on his face and a hard set to his clenched jaw. Murphy paused in his pacing suddenly, and slammed his fist on the table in frustration. The sudden, loud sound caused all of them to startle slightly, and Raven nearly dropped the radio speaker.

“Murphy,” she started in a soft voice, but he was already flying off the ledge as he paced the length of the countertop, his voice sharp and impatient. His frustration was palpable as he finally stopped pacing and directed his statement to Raven, seemingly, more than anyone else.

“We're back on the ground for what, a week? And we've already started a _war_. We burned down half the last useable ground left on the planet. The kids gave the sitter the slip and went on a murder spree. They get taken by a religious wingnut, while they were trying to launch a _missile_? That's an _impressive_ amount of chaotic evil, even for us.” Murphy angrily kicked the leg of the nearest table, as if the table were potentially to blame for the situation as well.

“The missile was actually my idea,” Monty volunteered, trying overly hard to sound calm and casual despite the thickening tension in the room. “I heard them talking about it, back when Mount Weather was still Mount Weather. Our plan wasn’t to launch it, though. It was to disable it, so they can’t launch it at us.”

Murphy rubbed his face tiredly; beside him, Bellamy was doing the same thing.

Raven was merely staring ahead now, working her tightly clenched jaw as she tried not to take what Murphy had said personally—despite the fact that it had felt quite personal, particularly in the way he seemed to be addressing her the entire time.

“Does it _matter_?” Clarke interrupted, whatever modicum of patience she had left dissipating quickly. “The only thing that matters right now is that the kids have been taken, and we need to march on New Polis.”

“Because invading New Polis has worked _really_ well for us up until this point?” Murphy offered dryly, just looking away when Bellamy shot him a disapproving look.

“You have a better plan? Where’s that big cockroach energy when we actually _need_ it, Murphy? You talk a _lot_ of shit for someone I don’t hear giving us another option, another idea. Something besides handing Lexa over to _Wonkru_ just to save our own _asses_!” Clarke spun on him, her voice thick with condescension and contempt.

Murphy just glared back at her for a moment, before crossing his arms and shrugging a little, his tone weary.

“Maybe that _is_ the plan. Maybe that’s how we win this, we can send Lex—“

Clarke slammed down the stack of books she’d forgotten she was holding, her face dark as she snapped. “We are not trading _anyone_.”

Murphy frowned. “I meant that we should—“

“No! Just.. shut up, Murphy. For once, can you just _shut_ your damn mouth? We’re not trading Lexa, and that’s _final_.” Clarke scowled and stormed from the room with that, ostensibly either looking for someone else to scream at for awhile, or to begin forming yet another plan to get the kids back.

Raven took a deep breath to steady herself before replying to Gaia, shooting an annoyed look at Murphy as she did. “We have to get the other leaders here. Let us discuss it a little more. We’ll get back to you.”

“You have an hour to respond, or we bleed the kids—starting with Lexa’s daughter. When they’re all dead, we launch the missile at you instead. It’s the best deal you’ll get; you should take it,” Gaia said simply, before audibly disconnecting on her end.

“I’m going to go try to calm Clarke down before she decides to launch a bunch of missiles herself,” Raven said with a disgusted glance at Murphy as she stood. “Try not to upset anyone else while I’m gone, would you?”

She left then, with nearly everyone else following suit until only Lexa and Murphy remained. He felt Lexa’s eyes on him, and he reluctantly lifted his head to meet her gaze. Lexa said nothing for a long time, and he finally looked away from her, shame washing over his face.

“I’m sorry, Lex. I really didn’t mean that we should just.. hand you over.”

“I know that is not what you meant, John. You don’t need to apologize. Clarke has always been driven by emotion, but she will come around. Sometimes she can’t immediately see the big picture as you and I do.”

Lexa rested her hand on his arm lightly, but pointedly; letting him know that they were truly okay. He nodded just a little, but still lowered his head as she headed out, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his own grief and shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Gravityverse trivia, "vs Canon" edition:
> 
> * It's roughly a two day journey on foot from Arkadia to New Polis - longer if you have an army with you.  
> * New Polis is situated in the general location of the canon Louwoda-Kliron Kru village Clarke & Madi call home.  
> * It is still the last living valley on Earth after Praimfiya.  
> * Mount Weather is situated much closer to the valley than in canon.  
> * Mount Weather is situated much further from Arkadia than in canon - Emerson makes the brisk jog in only six hours.  
> * Octavia's family's room isn't on the ring - it's shown in Arkadia, during Pike's reign.  
> * Tris is S1 canon! She's the young girl Anya wanted Clarke and Finn to save after the bridge explosion.  
> * On the show, Tris dies of sepsis, due to her injuries from the explosion. :( #TrisDeservedBetterToo  
> * Reese is also S1 canon! She's the little girl from the Ark who was going blind and didn't like barrettes.  
> * On the show, Reese is simply never mentioned again. It's entirely possible she could have made it to the ground, and might even be in cryo with Shawn Mendes. ;)
> 
> Okay, hopefully y'all enjoyed that at least a little--if so, maybe I'll do it again with more Gravity trivia? 
> 
> Until next time,  
> Be well, be kind, ste yuj!  
> \- PG


	17. Shell Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids make it to Mount Weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: scarification

I'm a kid like everyone else

I just wanna fight like everyone else, so let me go

I don't wanna be your hero

I don't wanna be a big man

I just wanna fight with everyone else

Everyone deserves a chance to walk with everyone else

\- Family of the Year, “Hero”

**New Polis, 0 Days as Grounders**

Madi hid in the brush, still holding the Commander’s mantle she’d grabbed without Clarke realizing. She waited near the lone willow tree in the cluster of oaks, as Emori had instructed her, but she had begun to grow nervous. The fires would only distract the residents of New Polis for so long before they went looking for those responsible; before they went looking for Clarke. Madi looked at the ash and dirt on her hands from starting the fires, and she quickly wiped them on her pants uncomfortably.

Nearby, a child was crying. Screaming for his _nomon_ in fear, the sound slicing through Madi with more force than a sword might have. She’d once been that screaming child, watching her life destroyed around her. That feeling—the one that had driven her to hide anywhere she could her entire life—burned deep in her gut still, and increased exponentially with the knowledge of the pain she had just caused the child, a child who’d done no wrong.

[mother]

She shook as she prepared to go after the child; she couldn’t just crouch here and listen to him dying, after all.

Then a woman’s voice rang out from the same direction. “Nyar? Nyar! Nyar, oh, I found you! Halvar? Halvar, I found your brother!”

[fuck]

“Thank god,” a young male voice responded, and Madi slowly let out the breath she’d been holding as the family moved away.

“Take him, I have to get to the crops. They’re burning out of control, I have to go help.”

Madi’s stomach lurched just as Emori came back, completely breathless. “Good job, Madi. Wha—What’s that?”

“Exactly what you think it is.” Madi handed her the mantle, and Emori watched in mild awe as Madi carefully—reverently, even—rolled the red velvet drape attached before neatly tucking it inside the pauldron. She retrieved it from Emori’s stunned grasp before speaking again.

“Until the day Lexa dies, it belongs to the _actual_ Commander. Not Clarke." Madi stuck the now-significantly more compact pauldron into the burlap bag slung across her chest, and it was clear the conversation was over.

“Okay, then.” Emori gave a sharp nod, deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing; they didn’t have time even if it had been. They began making their way carefully through the woods, and Madi followed her swiftly and silently, but her face was stony and her thoughts were miles away.

The child she’d heard crying—the adult that had ostensibly saved him had said something about food, about people in the crops, trying to stop them from burning. It was hard to be sure, especially as she ran behind Emori through a thick tangle of roots and vines, but Madi didn’t believe either one of them had set anything on fire close enough to affect food storage or the crops. That was built into their plan, for goodness' sake. ‘ _Make sure New Polis doesn’t starve to death_ ’ was right after ‘ _Get Abby to Lexa_ ’ on the priority list.

How had their fire spread so very far, and so very quickly?

Madi felt sick; she fought it back as much as she could, but it was beginning to dawn on her that if they had just destroyed New Polis’ food source, not only would a lot of people die from starvation, but far more would die from the _threat_ of starvation. They had just started a war; there was no scenario Madi could imagine, not even in any of the fictional worlds she knew so well, where that was not going to be true.

They were at war now, and Madi and Emori were the ones responsible for starting it. Every death that came now would be on their shoulders. The farther they moved from the chaotic hell of New Polis, the darker Madi’s heart seemed to grow, until it was likely the same shade of black her Nightblood was.

♾

**Trigeda, 6 Days as Grounders**

The sun was just beginning to show, the bright arms of its rays clawing into the sky, when Madi sat beside the dying fire once more--sans the cloth over her face. It still smelled awful, but she'd gotten used to it surprisingly quickly. She held her knife in the flame for a few moments after washing it off, and then pulled the collar of the oversized shirt she wore down her arm and twisted uncomfortably to reach the back of her exposed shoulder. Carefully, deliberately, she pressed the edge of the blade into her skin and slowly drew it down, applying enough pressure to ensure the wound would scar as it healed.

When she had made the moderately deep cut roughly an inch long, she pulled the knife back, her eyes scanning the droplets of black blood—Nightblood, blood of the Commanders, cursed blood. Blood people killed and died for, whether or not you wanted them to. 

Blood that put you in charge, whether or not you wanted to be. Blood that got your brother taken away from you. Blood that got your parents and your grandmother killed when you were so young, you barely remember enough about them to even miss them.

Madi scowled at the burdensome, damnable, jinxed, inky fluid—blood that she shared with Luna, with Aden and Mika. With Lexa, with Clarke. With a long line of people who had also killed and died for it, or because of it, or in pursuit of it. Who knew how many other children had grown up in hiding; living ghosts haunting the floors and the walls, living and dying in secretive isolation because of it. She hated it; hated this liquid evil that flowed throughout her, pulsing and undulating just beneath the surface. An enraged flow, twisting like a storm as it forced her towards a destiny she never asked for, never wanted.

It was her blood that had done it; that had broken apart everyone Madi cared about, everyone who cared about Madi.

“What are you doing?”

Madi startled, dropping the black-streaked knife to the ground.

“Nothing,” she replied instinctively. Reese just raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. Madi cringed. “Sorry. I uh.. I was..”

Reese came closer, gently touching the blood that flowed from the gash and inspecting it. “Kill marks,” she murmured.

Madi flushed in embarrassment, ducking her head. Reese wiped her fingertips on her pants, then turned her back to Madi and pulled the back of her shirt up. There, on Reese’s back, was a single mark; angled slightly and long healed, a tiny bundle of scar tissue.

Madi swallowed hard, taking it in for a moment before tilting her chin up slightly, her voice soft and still unsure.

“Can you help me, then? If it doesn’t bother you.”

Reese tugged her shirt back down and sat on the log behind Madi, her hand covering Madi’s briefly as she took the knife from her. She wiped it on her sleeve before holding it in the fire once more.

“Should cauterize it,” Reese pointed out. “Otherwise it could get infected. And if we run into more _Wonkru_ and they see your blood…”

Madi nodded quietly, pulling her shirt collar back into place and instead rolling the back of the shirt up and hunching forward.

She smelled the burning flesh a microsecond before the searing pain hit her. Madi clenched her jaw tightly, a strained groan escaping as Reese pressed the heated blade against the wound. Madi stayed in a tight ball, concentrating on not crying out as Reese continued the process until there were three neat little marks on Madi’s back.

They sat in the quiet of the breaking dawn for a while before Madi whispered, “Thank you.”

Reese nodded, fingering the knife she still held distractedly, rolling it idly between her hands.

“My blood doesn’t scare you?” Madi asked quietly.

“Why would it? You’re _natblida_ , like Mika and the others. Like the Commander. No offense, but that's not very scary.”

Madi lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug.

“It scares my moms. Aden, too," Madi paused before admitting, "It scares _me_.”

“It’s just blood,” Reese replied, twirling the tip of the knife against her fingertip. “Blood is blood; it doesn’t define you.”

“It does if you’re a _natblida_ ,” Madi grumbled, looking at her own lap with a grimace. “You get to be dead or a Commander.”

“That’s not true. You’re here, you’re _natblida_ , and you’re not dead or the Commander. Aden, Mika, and Luna. Arvid, Takami, and Sayen. Isn’t Clarke _natblida_ now, too?” Reese pointed out. “Things are different now, and they’ll be even more different in the future. You have a choice now, Madi. You get to be whoever you want to be."

Madi didn’t respond, her intense glare focused on the ground as she tried to stuff her emotions back inside herself. Something about proximity to Reese seemed to make feelings just _fall out_ of Madi, and it was frustrating to feel so open, and vulnerable, and _weak;_ especially at a time where she would need to be stronger than ever before.

“You don’t see it yet, Madi,” Reese began quietly. “But you will. You’re a leader; we can all see it. Maybe it’s not what you want, but.. Maybe it’s something you _need_ , though.”

“I don’t want it,” Madi replied stubbornly, shaking her head. “I really don’t, Reese.”

Reese turned to catch Madi’s gaze, her voice gentle. “Did Lexa? Did Clarke, or Bellamy, or Roan? The people who _want_ to be leaders usually make the worst leaders. It's the ones who worry about not being a good enough leader that make the best leaders. The one who always worries about her people before anything else." Reese smiled just a little, tucking a strand of Madi's hair behind her ear gently. "You're already a good leader Madi, and one day you're gonna be an even greater one. I hope like hell I'm there to see it."

The tears were threatening to spill forward, and that was something Madi didn’t have time or mental real estate to deal with just then; not with everything that had been and was still going on. Reese seemed to sense that, and decided to let it rest for the time being.

“Do you know what a blood oath is?” Reese asked after a stretch of silence.

“Yeah.” Madi shrugged half-heartedly. “Why?”

Reese continued to poke at the tip of the knife. “In _Azgeda_ , it’s especially meaningful. Not to be taken lightly, ever. You read Harry Potter on the Ark, right?” Madi nodded—she’d read practically every book on the Ark--even the ones Octavia had hidden away for being too mature; she didn't think Madi knew where she'd put them. "It’s like.. the Unbreakable Vow. It's better to die than violate a blood oath.”

“How do you know about it?”

Reese gazed into the woods, the sun beginning to turn the morning sky into an explosion of pinks and oranges that would have been nearly breathtaking under better circumstances.

“I told you _Azgeda_ killed a lot of our people; nearly killed me,” she started, taking a slow and steadying breath. “I learned about them. Everything I could, every opportunity I had.”

“Know your enemy,” Madi murmured softly.

“And know them well. It’s what guides my sword, the way your love for your family guides yours, Madi. I was wrong when I said it was fear. It’s not; it’s just what we have left in us when we move past our fear. Vengeance, or loyalty, or whatever else. We all have something that drives us.”

Reese nodded pointedly, like she’d made a decision of sorts, and met Madi’s gaze for a moment before she spoke again.

“Whatever happens, I have your back, Madi. Wherever we end up, I’ll be at your side, _ai swega em klin_. _Oso tai choda op kom jus_.” With that, Reese drew the knife across her own palm, the blood bubbling up quickly from the clean slash.

[I swear it / We bind ourselves in blood ( _Azgeda_ blood oath)]

She held her palm up to a stunned Madi, who paused only briefly before taking the knife Reese offered with her other hand. Madi slashed at her own hand, her voice soft. “I’ll be at your side too, Reese. Always. I swear it. _Oso tai choda op kom jus.”_

They pressed their palms together with a large, shared inhale as they each held onto the other’s hand, as they each held the other’s gaze. After a moment, Madi slid the knife back into her holster without letting go of Reese’s hand. Her eyes fell to the ground, and to the trees, where there were still small slicks of blackened blood—much of it Madi’s, but no doubt some of it belonged to Aden and Mika, as well.

Her palm throbbed around the cut as it continued to bleed, and Madi deliberately dripped the dark blood in tiny circles in the dirt, watching herself detachedly. Her mind was a million miles away, as she laid her head on Reese’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And, hell, Madi thought; maybe it was.

♾

**Mount Weather, Present Time**

Madi crept quietly down the hall, unable to deny that she was very impressed but very intimidated by the large, sterile halls. She’d underestimated the amount of panic she would feel, being underground once more. The Ring, at least, had viewports and artificial sunlight. This place felt like a massive grave. There were no windows, no light but the stark fluorescents that emitted a high pitched, barely audible whining sound that felt like it was drilling into Madi’s brain.

The others followed her just as quietly, though the mountain was clearly long-abandoned. It was surprising that the electricity even worked, but perhaps no one had thought to pull the solar panels plug when they left. Who knew, and did it even matter? It didn’t, not now. They’d had some good luck, and Madi had decided to just be thankful for it until she had reason to feel otherwise.

Still. There were a lot of hallways, and, if the unlabeled fire escape diagram was to be believed, quite a few levels that they would need to search in order to find what they were looking for.

“We should split up,” Tris said. “The place is empty, and we’ll find it a lot faster this way."

Madi chewed her lower lip, glancing up and down the hallways as she considered their options, though she knew Tris was right. She had a tightness in her gut—something was off, something felt wrong about it, but she couldn’t figure out what.

“Alright,” Madi finally acquiesced, having been unable to come up with a reasonable argument against it. “But we still stay in teams. Reese is with me. Aden and Mika are with you, Tris. Everyone stays in earshot, everyone searches the same level. We meet back here, at this freight elevator, in ten minutes. No poking around, if it’s not the control room or security pod, we don’t care about it yet.”

Aden was looking at her with a sick look on his face, and Madi allowed herself exactly three seconds to find joy in his realization that not only had his little sister given him an order, but it was a good one, and he’d have to follow it.

“Got it, _Commander_ ,” he grumbled as the others agreed far less reluctantly. Madi decided to let him have that one, since they all knew what was bothering him at the moment anyway.

“Ten minutes," was all she said.

Aden gave a short nod. “Ten minutes.”

♾

It had still taken well over an hour to find the control room inside the mountain, despite splitting up. The former residents had been _very_ strange about their maps, and it was very inconvenient to find your way around a place as large as it was without any identifying information.

It had taken another hour for them to figure out how to work the radio and begin hailing Arkadia and the Eligius. In the end, it had been Aden and Reese who managed to get the thing working, and after a few adjustments, they’d finally gotten a response.

Raven’s voice—her beautiful, familiar, happy, lovely voice—sent a deep wave of homesickness through Madi’s gut, and she struggled to keep her emotions together. It had been even harder when Raven had told her to hold on, and then..

“Madi?”

Madi couldn’t have helped it; she burst into tears, and she didn’t even care. “Lexa?”

“It’s me, _ain strikon_ —oh,” Lexa coughed on the other end of the line, and Madi couldn’t help the smallest of smiles; she knew it was to cover Lexa's own tears, and subsequently Madi cared even less as hers poured down her cheeks. “Are you all okay? Is your brother with you?”

[My little one]

“Yeah, we’re all okay,” Madi sniffled. She felt quite small at the moment, and all she wanted was to climb through the radio and be home, and warm, and safe in Lexa’s arms. “ _Moba, Leksa,_ I'm so sorry. I left her behind. I left Clarke behind, but I’m going to bring her back.”

[I'm sorry, Lexa]

There was a short pause, and then Clarke’s tearful voice came over the radio. “Madi— _hodnes_ , I’m here.”

[Love]

“Clarke? How?”

Madi’s tears increased exponentially when she realized that not only was Clarke alive, but she was already back in Arkadia. With a conscious, living, Lexa. Everyone was alive, and home. Everyone except them, it would appear. Madi quickly stifled her tears as best she could, remembering that there was something else they were there for, besides Clarke.

“I—Kane helped me escape. Titus did. You can trust them, Madi. Please, leave that place. Wait for us in the woods. Octavia has search parties on horses looking for you guys.”

Madi was already shaking her head, though obviously she knew Clarke couldn’t see it. “We can’t leave, Clarke. There’s something here they're afraid of. It’s why we came in here. They don’t use the mountain at all. They’re scared of it or something. Maybe they have a weapon, o—or—“

“Madi, I don’t care. We can talk about all of that when you’re safe at home, all of you.”

Before Madi could argue further, she heard Raven in the background saying Clarke’s name, and then something unintelligible. Then Clarke said something that sounded like, “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? No way!”

The radio was quiet for a moment, and Madi began to worry they’d lost connection, until Raven came back on the line, seemingly having won whatever debate she’d been having with Clarke just then.

“Madi? Do you think—if I walk you through it, can you work the computer console there?”

Madi’s eyes scanned the room and landed on the console Raven must have been talking about. “Uh.. maybe? It.. doesn’t really look like the ones on the Ring, but..”

“I know. But it works kind of the same as the ones on the Ri—what? I--Monty, Jesus Christ, _what_?”

Raven sounded extraordinarily annoyed; clearly Monty had broken Reyes' Rule #1: Never, _ever_ interrupt Raven’s train of thought when she’s trying to work things out herself or explain them to someone else.Another moment of silence, and Tris put her hand out for the speaker. Madi looked to her with mild confusion, until Raven’s voice came through once more, significantly more annoyed than before.

“Madi, Monty requests you hand the radio to Tris.”

Tris wiggled her fingers at Madi and lifted an eyebrow, as though she was saying, “I told you so.”

Madi obediently handed the speaker over.

“Raven? It’s Tris. I’m on the login screen already, username is ‘ _Dante_ ’?”

“Damn it,” Raven cursed, and Madi could practically see her slamming her forehead into her hand in frustration. “That wasn’t—it’s been changed. The former president there _was_ named Dante, but that wasn’t what he used on—ugh, whatever,” she continued. “Doesn’t matter. Okay, try ‘Wallace’ for the password.”

Tris did so obediently, while Madi joined the others in wandering the room uselessly, not knowing what to do with themselves for the time being.

“Not it,” she reported back.

"Yeah, I didn't think it'd be that easy." Raven let a few more choice curses out, and then Clarke’s voice filled the room again.

“Try ‘Alighieri’, Tris.” Clarke proceeded to spell it out, and Tris typed it in, unintentionally holding her breath as she submitted it. The computer beeped, and Tris clapped her hands together excitedly as the screen before her began scrolling by at a high speed.

“I think we’re back in business.”

After a quick but enthusiastic celebration, Tris continued to go back and forth with Raven, leaving the others feeling useless again. Madi had just decided they should search the rest of the level, just in case there was something helpful—or even just something to eat, her growling stomach suggested, when she heard a cough echoing through the hallway.

She looked at Reese in a panic, and Reese was already looking back at her with a similar expression. They both pulled their weapons slowly as Raven continued the on-radio debate with the others on her end, while a tired-looking Tris merely listened to it.

“All of that was completely destroyed the first time around. Unless they have something else we don’t know about, the missile is the only weapon there—“

“Excuse me, missile?” They heard Murphy interrupt. “Are we talking about a missile right now? Seriously, whe—“

Murphy’s voice was cut off on both ends by a sharp yell from Tris as bullets landed in the wall just behind her.

Madi and Reese were already launching themselves at Gaia and the six _very_ large men with her.Aden, Mika, and a mildly shaky but incredibly pissed off Tris quickly joined in the fray, and it was absolute chaos for a moment. Several bullets flew astray, taking out some of the screens in the room, and Madi could only hope none had found a new home in her friends as she rolled on the floor with her hands pushing against Gaia’s armored chest uselessly.

Tris was slammed back into the console by her attacker, her back depressing the speaker button just long enough to pick up her cry for help to Reese. One of the men had a gun pointed at Mika, who was backed into a corner with only her small knife. Aden let out a primal scream and swung onto the man’s arm, pulling it down just in time to send the bullet into Gaia’s calf instead of into Mika.

“No more bullets!” Gaia yelled, seemingly unfazed by the injury as she slammed Madi into the floor pointedly by her throat. “They’re children, you don't need a gun against a _child_!”

At the same time, Tris’ attacker had dragged her off the console and was already binding her wrists with a rope. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before the others had all been subdued and bound, save for Madi, who was merely subdued. Gaia held her against the wall still, apparently amused as Madi continued to struggle despite their obvious defeat.

“You have a warrior’s spirit, little one. I respect that, even though it wasn’t my own calling. It would be a waste if I had to kill you and your overly brave little friends. I’d much rather trade you back to your people.”

“You may as well kill us here and now. They’ll never give you Lexa,” Madi spat the words before spitting in Gaia’s face. “ _Jok yu of._ I know who you are, _Fleimkepa_. _Natrona_.”

[Go fuck yourself / Flamekeeper / Traitor]

Gaia flinched slightly at the unexpected—and admittedly somewhat petty—attack, but made no attempt to wipe Madi’s saliva from where it had landed on her cheek. “Or perhaps I will just kill you and wipe out Arkadia instead.”

“You don’t scare me,” Madi sneered at the girl, still swinging her limbs wildly as she attempted to connect with her. “When Chancellor Kane finds out, he’ll let us go. Not everyone is as comfortable murdering little kids as your kind is, _yu fleimkepin jok_.”

[You flamekeeping fuck.]

“That is highly unlikely,” Gaia replied, smiling cruelly as she clutched Madi’s throat tighter. “Chancellor Kane would not come looking for anyone here. Why would he? We don’t use the mountain. You said as much yourself, when you first entered.”

Madi’s body had begun to reach total exhaustion, and when she realized they’d been followed from the moment they approached the mountain, she gave up her useless kicking in favor of redirecting her energy into a dark glare and the crushing weight of her own guilt.

“I can see that you don't use it,” she replied dryly.

Gaia just continued holding her in place, her wolflike grin not faltering in the slightest.

“Wonderful as he is, our Chancellor doesn’t understand the true magnitude of what we are trying to accomplish here. He will, and very soon—but for now, some moves must be made without his knowledge or input, for the good of all of us. He will understand later, and he will forgive all of us for these minor crimes once he sees the City of Light for himself.”

Madi grunted as she swung her legs once more, her eyes widening with the realization that Gaia was telling the truth; at least, the part about Kane not knowing anyone was here. The rest of it sounded like crazy person talk, and she couldn't really worry about that part just yet.

She cursed herself internally; she’d believed the same thing Kane did, and led her friends—and likely, now, her family, and Lexa for sure—straight into their deaths by believing it. She should have had someone standing guard; she should have been more prepared, more leader-like.She should have listened to Clarke, to Abby, to Emori and Raven. Should never have asked the others to leave Arkadia in the first place. This was her fault; these deaths would all be on her shoulders as well.

“However, I feel I owe you all a thank you, for unlocking the computer system for us. It was the one thing standing between us and the future of Wonkru, and we could not find the former president’s password. So maybe I’ll let you live, for now, since you were so helpful. And maybe your people will be a little more flexible about our demands if they know they’re trading for all of you and the future safety of Arkadia. Now that we have access to the missiles stored here,” Gaia finished slyly, and Madi felt the world dropping out from beneath her.

Gaia shoved her roughly to the ground as Madi gasped in horror, then turned to the largest of her men and instructed him, “ _Sen em op gon taingeda_.”

[Put them in lockup.]

“ _Sha, Fleimkepa_ ,” the gargantuan responded as he easily flung a writhing Madi over his shoulder. He smiled at her before picking her sword up from the ground. “This is a nice weapon. It's mine now.”

[Yes, Flamekeeper.]

“ _Jok yu of, branwoda_ ,” Madi hissed as his large hand clamped down on her. “I’ll get it back.”

[Go fuck yourself, idiot.]

“Tris? Madi! Anyone?” Raven’s voice was quite panicked now, and Gaia gave Madi one last smile before lifting the radio receiver herself.

“Raven. That is you, isn’t it? It’s been a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the Jurassic Park easter egg in this chapter?


	18. I Am Become Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in Mount Weather don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: minor character death

Feeling like it's time to go home

Yeah, feeling like it's time to go home

And it came to pass when everything had ended

The world was just a grubby balloon

And I spoke up, said sorry if I've offended

This voice came from the back of the room

Oh, screaming from the back of the room

It said we all die young, one more time

Sorry if I've offended, we all die young

We all die, we all die young..

\- The Decemberists, “We All Die Young”

Madi hadn’t sat in the stark white isolation cell for more than an hour or so, before the knob began to turn slowly. Left without a weapon, Madi would only have the element of surprise on her side, and she quickly moved behind the door. After a moment, it opened towards her, and she held her breath as she launched herself at the figure that hesitated in the doorway.

The man cried out as Madi landed on him, and they both went down to the floor. Madi rolled them over and landed with her knees on the man’s chest and her hands around his throat. She paused when the hood fell back and revealed a face she simply would never be able to forget.

“ _Fleimkepa_ ,” she whispered in stunned shock. The bald man with the tattooed head from every single one of her worst nightmares was looking her right in the face, and he looked just as scared as she felt at the moment.

“Wait,” he said quickly.

"I know," Madi climbed off of him, trying to ignore the fact that she was shaking. “I can trust you.”

Titus looked relieved, and though Madi felt sick to her stomach being face to face with the man who had caused so much of her pain, she’d also never been happier to see someone.

“We must get the others,” he said, pushing himself off the floor and handing Madi a rather ornate dagger, which she took without a second glance. “And then we must get out, before Gaia realizes you are gone. It will not be long before she checks again.”

They crept into the hallway, with Madi keeping watch as Titus slowly unlocked the other cells. They had just reached the last cell and freed Reese, when Madi suddenly pulled Titus to the ground. She landed on him with the dagger pressed against his throat.

“Madi!” Aden cried out, as a very confused Reese slowly exited her cell. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

“Please,” Titus said, spreading his empty hands. “I know how you must hate me, but we must leave this place. Kill me after I ensure you are safe—I will happily give you my life.”

“We’re not leaving until we disable that missile,” Madi informed Titus, as well as the others. “They’ll launch it the second they know we’re gone. So we’re not leaving, we’re going back to the control room to finish what we started.”

“You can come with us willingly to help us, or you’ll protect us by being our hostage,” Madi continued, taking on a more threatening tone and pressing the blade to his throat with just enough pressure that blood began to bubble around the edge of it.

Titus’ eyes closed briefly, his expression pained and shoulders slumping when he softly murmured, “You are.. upsettingly like your mother.”

“Which one?” Madi loosened her grip on the dagger.

“All of them, now that I think of it,” Titus replied, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to make his scowl into a slightly smaller scowl. “But I meant Lexa. You even look like her, when she was your age.”

“Does that mean you’re coming with us willingly?”

Titus straightened his head, a look of surprise on his face. “Of course I am. I vowed to protect you. I swore on my life that I would keep you safe and return you to your mother. I know Lexa lives, and I know you are hers.”

“I know _you_ helped Clarke,” Madi replied, lowering the knife and standing, offering her hand to help Titus up. “Thank you for that."

♾

They were more careful this time, but it didn’t take long for Gaia to notice them missing; she and her men were on them before they’d even left the medical wing. They all ran, zig-zagging their paths and trying to duck and dodge the several bullets that went flying. It wasn’t quite enough, though, and as they approached the control room, one of the bullets ripped through Titus’ gut, and Madi cried out his name as he slumped to the floor in shock.

“Go, go!” Titus yelled, trying to push her away. “ _Leave_ me!”

“No way!” Madi grabbed his collar and started pulling him into the control room, struggling against his weight and the panic in her chest.

Aden--who had ushered the others inside amidst the hail of bullets--came back out to help her. A bullet grazed his leg, taking only a swatch of fabric and leaving behind a red, irritated scrape, and Aden yelped in surprise as he grabbed Titus under his arms and gave him a hard yank through the doorway. Madi and Aden tumbled to the ground in a pile as they pulled Titus the rest of the way into the control room, and Mika slammed the door shut and locked it. Reese and Tris immediately began piling things in front of it, and Aden ran to help them.

Madi desperately began ripping strips of cloth off the edge of Titus’s robe. She tried to staunch the bleeding from his abdomen, but he was losing a lot of blood, and the rags quickly grew soaked with it.

“Don’t be afraid, Madi,” Titus smiled a bit dreamily, his eyes fluttering as his body heaved involuntarily. “You look... so like your mother. Tell her she was right, please. And Luna.. tell her I’m sorry.”

“You can tell them yourself, when we get out of here, okay?” Madi insisted, her voice full of childish pleading; though somewhere inside, she knew there was nothing else she could do in the moment.

“Here.. In my pocket.. Take them.. They came f-from.. _Auda_.. _Au_..” He interrupted himself to let out a watery cough.

“ _Audaskai_?” Madi supplied, rummaging through the pocket he’d tried to indicate. He nodded slightly, letting out a couple of strained gasps as her fingers closed around a few small, smooth items that felt like flattened pebbles. She retrieved them from his pocket, frowning a little at the strange, translucent discs in her hand. “What are they?”

Titus shook his head slightly, and his voice was forced; straining and stuttering as he struggled for breath between his words. “Gaia.. instructed me to give these out. One was meant for Kane; but I could not do so. I told her he had confiscated them. I knew whatever unnatural.. _creature_.. lurked within her was connected to them. Perhaps you can figure out how.”

Madi put them in her own pocket, her voice breaking a little. “ _We_ can figure out how, when we get out of here. Together.”

She pressed the soaked rags into his wound, her eyes welling as she realized the blood pooling on the floor was already far too much lost. Titus let out a soft, breathless and sad chuckle, patting her hand gently.

“I will not be getting out of here, young _Heda_. It’s an honorable death—that I should die protecting Lexa’s daughter.. _Natblida_ ,” his voice grew more choked as blood began to run out the corner of his lips and his speech became slurred. 

"Oh yes," he added, his voice heavy with regret. "Of course I remember you.. You are his sister... _yu laik_ _natblida_. Madi _kom Louwoda Kliron Kru_. I long believed the girl in the floor was just fireside legend. That I should be here now, dying in the arms of.. the legend herself.. I killed your parents. Yet, you don’t welcome my death,” he mumbled softly. The delirium of death beginning to show in his unfocused gaze and the fumble of his fingers as he shakily reached to brush Madi's hair gently off her forehead with a smile.

[You're a Nightblood]

“Strange girl. Such a.. a strange girl, so like your mother.. Courageous. Your mothers would be so proud of you.. _ain strikon,_ Lexa..”

[my little one]

“Titus—“ Titus tiredly looked up as Aden kneeled beside them with a quiver in his lower lip.

He reached out, resting a pale shaky hand on Aden’s, his voice rasping. “Both of you, Aden. Brave boy—follow Lexa. Trust her as you trust yourselves, as you trust each other. She was right, you must tell her that.”

Aden’s face crumpled a little, but Reese called out to him from beneath the radio console that had, apparently, been damaged in their earlier brawl. He leaned forward and laid his hand over Titus’ heart as he pressed his lips to his forehead.

“In peace, _Fleimkepa_ ,” he whispered. Titus gripped his hand weakly and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Aden swallowed back as many of his tears as he could, and then moved quickly to help Reese with the radio.

“Right about what, Titus? Hey, Titus.. Titus, what was Lexa right about? Just stay with me, okay? I’ll fix you. I’ll fix you,” Madi tried to swallow her fear as she pressed the wet rags into his wound. The blood, though, was pouring from him in copious amounts, and his face had already gone quite pale. She shook him a little, speaking with an intense reassurance that was likely no more comforting to him than it was to herself.

“I am afraid you cannot fix this,” Titus gave her a sad smile, resting his hand gently on her forearm and patting it gently, comfortingly. Titus began shuddering then, his head lolling with delirium and his body beginning to settle as his breath became raspy. “ _Ai gonplei ste odon_.”

[My fight is over]

“You can fix.. so many _other_ things, little Lexa. You know the path, _ain strikon, ain Leksa_.. you always did. _Ascende superious_ is the key.” He reached out and cupped Madi’s cheek tiredly as his chest gave a few, soft, raspy heaves. Madi cried freely, cupping her bloodstained hand over his on her cheek.

[my little one / my Lexa]

“I forgive you,” Madi whispered to him, her chest feeling hollow, but somehow heavier than ever before. “I forgive you, Titus. Luna forgives you. It’s okay, we all forgive you. Be at peace, _Fleimkepa_.”

Titus smiled dreamily as his eyes closed, as he let go. “Don’t be afraid, _ain yongon_ , you were right all along.. Life.. It is about more than surviving. _Ai hod yu in..”_

[my child / I love you]

Madi lowered her head briefly, the tears pouring from her eyes as the last of life left Titus’ and it became a little bit harder to breathe. Her shoulders grew a bit heavier, her heart grew a bit darker, and she grew just a bit more angry, a bit more vengeful, as she watched another life leave another pair of eyes.

Because of her.

“ _Moba_ ,” she whispered, clutching his robe. “ _Moba_ , I’m so sorry, Titus. I’ll tell them, I promise. _Mebi oso ns hit choda op nodotaim_.”

[I’m sorry, I’m sorry / May we meet again.]

She felt sick, but she couldn’t grieve yet; a warrior didn’t grieve until the war was over. She would grieve later, and not for the man who had taken so much from her, but for the man who had given her another chance, had paid for it with his life. She gave herself ten seconds to get herself together; silently, internally, she counted to ten and then she shoved her emotion back, forcing it deep inside her.

Madi stood quickly from Titus’ lifeless form, her eyes burning with rage and unshed tears. He’d tried to _help_ them, and she’d gotten him killed. _She_ had. 

There was so much blood on her hands now that surely any new additions hardly mattered. She’d need a broader back to fit all her kill marks no matter what choices she made; that much was, for the first time in her life, quite clear. A few lives, a few hundred—how could it feel any worse than it did already? 

It could feel worse if it was people you loved dying, Madi supposed, as opposed to a bunch of strangers dying. The thought had no sooner crossed her mind, when she spun on her heel and her voice took on a crisp, unquestionable air of authority.

“Aden, Reese. Forget the damned radio, we don’t have time. We’re on our own. Tris, can you get me into the missile command screen again?”

Tris, despite the severity of the situation, made a mildly offended face and touched her hand to her chest in mock disbelief. “Of course I can, I learned from Monty Green. I can do anything.” 

The door creaked and groaned horribly as Gaia’s men tried to break it in, and Madi rushed to help the others in piling anything that wasn’t bolted down in front of the door. She’d made several trips when she noticed Tris was more or less just sitting at the console.

“Why aren’t you still working on it?” Madi snapped, rearing back with her fists up as the door slammed against the hinges again, with a sickening squeal from the metal as it slowly bent.

“'Cause I’m done. Just waiting on the coordinates. Reese?”

Reese called from the desk, “One sec, almost got them.”

A few seconds passed, and Mika glanced back at the others in fear as the top hinge of the door snapped off. “Reese! Now or never!”

“Got it!” Reese jumped up from the table and ran over, holding the palm of her hand up. A series of coordinates were written along the line of the fresh scar—the one that matched Madi’s own—and Tris quickly entered them into the computer.

“Now what?” Madi hissed impatiently as the door slammed against the second hinge and began to work it loose.

“Pull that,” Tris replied, her voice slightly strained as she pointed to the lever on the panel beside her. "Big boom."

“That’s it?” Madi frowned, approaching and looking down at the seemingly innocuous lever. One wouldn’t think it could destroy an entire clan so.. easily. One flick, and Wonkru would be gone—save for the few here in the mountain. But it would not matter if they won against Gaia and her henchmen; their people would be safe in Arkadia. Kane would be safe in his forest home; the one Emori had told her was far closer to the mountain than New Polis.

Madi’s family would be safe; nothing else mattered as she reached for the lever, her hand shaking slightly.

“Wait,” Reese gently grasped her wrist, shaking her head. “This isn’t just on you, Madi. They’re not your people, they’re ours. _Ogeda_.” She moved her hand—ironically, the one with the scar and the coordinates on it— so it was entwined with Madi’s, then rested their hands on the lever. “Together, Madi. Together, or not at all.”

[Together]

Madi just looked at her in stunned silence, her eyes full of tears that were just beginning to escape down her cheeks. 

Tris gave a firm nod, laying her hand over Reese’s. “Together, or not at all.”

Mika glanced at the barricaded door before joining them, her hand resting on the back of Tris’, and a lump in her throat as she echoed, “Together or not at all.”

“Together, or not at all,” Madi swallowed thickly, her gaze finding Aden as she said it. The others looked at him, too; Aden looked at the floor and shuffled his feet a little, looking uncomfortable and crossing his arms.

“Give me another option, Aden,” she continued, lowering her voice to a near-whisper, her voice tearful. “There’s nothing I want more than another option right now. So please, give me one.”

After a long moment—so long that Gaia’s men had just popped the second hinge off, leaving maybe one or two hard pushes before the door gave—Aden finally lifted his head, looking at Madi. With his eyes already welling up, he joined the others at the control panel.

“Together or not at all,” Aden gulped softly, resting his hand on top of Mika’s.

They took a collective, slow, steadying breath before they began to pull the lever as one. The lever reached the other side of its housing, and Madi felt bile in her throat as the flickering screens showed the silo opening. 

The door tore from the final hinge just then, and Gaia and her men skidded to a stop as they, too, saw the missile on the screens. It had begun to fly through the air, and Gaia let out a feral cry as she dove at Reese, who was the closest. Quickly, the others scattered, each taking on their own personal rematch against Gaia’s men as the missile soared through the sky towards New Polis.

Reese let out a loud cry as she rolled into Gaia’s attack and took her to the floor. They rolled over and over one another, very close to evenly matched. Something Madi would be impressed by later; at the moment, she was fairly busy with a man that must have been three times her size and was easily twice her height. Madi’s mind briefly flashed back to her days spent curling up inside holes in floors, or hollows of trees, and with that memory, she shrank into herself, rolling under the giant’s legs and winding up behind him.

The giant did an almost comical double-take, having lost sight of Madi briefly, and she used the moment to jump onto his back. He snarled in frustration, and twisted his massive form around and around, trying in vain to lay a hand on her. Madi crossed her arms around his neck and pulled against his throat as hard as she could, burying her fists in his soft flesh until she could feel his throat collapsing. He gave a great huff and a heave, his hands now gripping Madi’s arms and tearing into her flesh as she crushed his windpipe.

Meanwhile, Reese took a knee to the face from Gaia and slammed into the wall. Gaia had used the moment to grab her throat and pin her against the wall, upright and still swinging wildly at the _Fleimkepa_. 

Gaia narrowed her eyes, her own face just as bloodied as Reese’s, as she unapologetically pressed down on Reese’s throat. “Don’t worry, your death doesn’t lie in asphyxiation. I know you, sightless one. The one _Azgeda_ called _skaibaman_. You will die as your target did. With your throat slit open, body left in the woods for the scavengers.. An eye for an eye, you might even say..”

[Skyvengeance]

Reese gave an enraged howl at the dig and swung wildly—and unsuccessfully—at Gaia. Despite being a bit busy as she was--still choking the mooselike warrior--Madi still frowned slightly. Reese had a title? One that, apparently, many people knew? People didn’t give you a name like that for killing one man. Octavia had killed how many? Three hundred or so, to earn hers? 

One man, Reese had said. She had killed only one man; one who attacked her in the woods. A chance meeting, she’d also implied; but obviously not, if Gaia was saying target. Madi felt herself growing even more angry at the thought that Reese had lied to her, particularly after Reese had made such a big deal about not being lied to. 

Her fists pressed even harder into the moose-man’s throat as she let out a scream of frustration and rage, eventually bringing him down to his knees and then, finally, to the floor as his body gave a few last cursory attempts at getting oxygen into his deprived lungs. He twitched once, twice, and then lay incredibly still. Madi fought physics to retrieve her arms from beneath the hulking man, and pulled her sword from his scabbard.

“Told you I’d get it back,” she snapped at his corpse, before launching herself into the fray between Aden, Mika, and their attackers.

A few yards away, Reese, with a darkly amused venom in her good eye, slammed the back of her own hand against the wall, showing Gaia her palm. Her voice came out gritty and broken, thanks to Gaia’s hand, but what she said was unmistakably clear anyway. 

“You’re too late. Your people are dead.”

Gaia had lightened her chokehold on Reese only slightly, and now she was laughing, and Madi felt something hard and heavy drop in her gut. She held her breath as she waited for the inevitably harder and heavier thing Gaia was about to drop on her.

“You _stupid_ girl!” she laughed, continuing to pin Reese to the wall with ease, even as her shoulders shook. “You should have aimed higher. The only thing that missile will hit is the forest.. and of course, Arkadia’s crops, too. You signed your own people’s death warrant, _strikon_. Or should I say, _strikheda_ ,” she continued pointedly, looking at Madi. 

[little one / little commander ]

More specifically, looking at the gash in Madi’s forehead that now poured inky blood down her face and dripped to her torn shirt. Madi flinched.

“Oh, yes,” Gaia said smoothly. “I know you, _natblida_. I have long heard the legend of the girl hidden in the floor; I never imagined I might have the pleasure of executing her myself, though.”

Gaia slammed Reese to the floor, knocking her unconscious, and Madi screamed in rage as one of the men wrenched her arms behind her back, effectively capturing her. Mika and Aden had already been taken down as well, and Tris was holding a sword up to her attacker, but it was all over her face that she knew they were done for. As Madi was bound at both the wrist and legs, she caught a glimpse of the larger screen, showing the missile as it began to dip its nose lower. 

Gaia watched dispassionately as the kids were once more captured, bound, and forced to the floor. Reese began to stir, and one of the men grabbed her quickly. Gaia lifted the portable radio from her belt as she, too, watched the screen, and demanded to speak with Clarke, specifically.

“Listen to me, _du skayon_. You bring Lexa to us, we forget the little war criminals aimed a missile at New Polis— and you can have them back. Alive. It’s a good deal, Clarke. One life for five; I’m being more than fair now. Especially since most of my people would be dead if the blind one could do math.”

[Skyperson (derogatory, equiv. of 'skybitch')]

Madi let out a loud cry as they watched the missile land, setting a huge swath of the forest on fire—as well as the furthest edge of Arkadia’s crops. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she felt the bile rising in the back of her throat. She barely heard Clarke’s voice on the radio, letting loose a string of curses in at least two languages. Gaia lowered the radio with an eye roll, and looked at Madi.

“Come to think of it, maybe it was purposeful. Maybe your little friend here is a better person than you are, and didn’t want to murder all of my people,” Gaia suggested. "Maybe she didn't want you to become a murderer. Or, maybe she really is just bad at math.." The accusation was petty, but effective.

“Bullshit,” Reese snarled, lurching against her captor’s grip and getting not even an inch closer as she yelled. “I can do math just fine. Those were the right coordinates, Madi. You have to believe me! I wouldn’t lie, you know me, Madi!”

“Everyone lies,” Gaia said dismissively. “Get them out of here now, I’m getting a headache.”

Madi was still watching Reese protest and cry out as she was carried back to her own isolation cell, but she couldn’t bring herself to call back. Reese had lied about her kill mark; perhaps lied about the coordinates--that did sound like Reese; trying to protect Madi from herself. Maybe it had _all_ been a lie.

But it didn’t even matter, Madi realized. This was all over, anyway. No food in New Polis. No food in Arkadia. Madi's friends were going to die. Madi’s family was going to die. 

And every last one of those things was Madi’s own fault. 

Eventually Reese gave up trying to convince her, and Madi watched her be carried out of view just before she was tossed back into her own isolation cell. There was no Titus this time around, either, Madi reminded herself as she gazed down at his bloodstains on her arms and shirt.

The war had ended, somehow, and so quietly and swiftly that Madi hadn’t even seen it was over, until it was far too late.

And they had lost it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this chapter included the [highlighted] phrase:  
> "because rags are not a medical treatment and anyone with basic  
> medical knowledge like Madi or Clarke would definitely know that." 
> 
> I thought you'd all like to know that little, obviously meaningless tidbit.  
> I'm clearly not at all salty about anything here.  
> It just feels kinda relevant.  
> Can't imagine why.
> 
> #LexaDeservedBetter #SaltKru #iLied


	19. It's Only Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke have some things to unpack; Murphy executes a questionable plan for survival.

We couldn't turn around till we were upside down

I'll be the bad guy now, but know I ain't too proud

I couldn't be there; even when I try, you don't believe it

We do this every time -- run away but we're running in circles

Run away, run away, I dare you to do something

I'm waiting on you again, so I don't take the blame

I got a feeling that it's time to let it go, let it go

Maybe you don't understand what I'm going through

It's only me, what you got to lose?

Make up your mind, tell me, what are you gonna do?

It's only me, let it go..

\- Post Malone, “Circles”

Murphy didn’t quite know what to do with himself, particularly when nearly everyone he knew was unhappy with him at the moment. He wandered the ship, lost in his thoughts and hoping to find a way out of the mess they were all now in. He paused when he heard voices coming from the pod that must have been just around the corner of the hallway. They were speaking quietly, but he could hear the conversation fairly clearly, and he pressed himself back against the wall and tilted his head, listening. The grouchy son of a bitch that seemed to follow Diyoza around like a lost puppy was speaking in what appeared to be his default cadence: a gruff, annoyed tone.

“What game are you playing, Diyoza? You want to bow down and play _house_ with these people now? Look around you, Diyoza. You’re the only one who does."

She didn't respond for a moment, and then her icy cold gaze slid to meet his.

“You never were much in the brains department, Pax. What brilliant plan do you only think you've come up with now? Is it anything like your last plan? The one where we meet a pissed off army with prisoners that belong to them, and you, in your infinite wisdom wanted to show up with big ass sonic drills and wave them around to compensate for your other.." She took a moment to deliberately glance at his crotch and raise an eye brow before looking back at him in disappointment.

“..shortcomings."

He couldn't help it; Murphy bit into his wrist to hold in a snort, and clamped down harder at the wounded look on Paxton’s face. He just hoped the conversation would move on before he drew blood from the pressure of his own teeth—that would be a difficult thing to explain over in medical.

"Ha, ha," Paxton spat dryly. "Do what you want, then. Keep playing 'Cowboys & Indians' with your psychotic new friends. See how long it takes for them to turn on you. The rest of us are gonna let those assholes all kill each other, while we go take that valley that's rightfully ours, anyway. We were on this planet long before any of them were a twinkle in their mothers' eyes.”

"Listen up, _twinkle_. You can survive by being in charge, but only for just so long. Eventually someone else is gonna come along, and they're gonna wanna be in charge. And then you aren't in charge _or_ surviving anymore."

Paxton scoffed with annoyance. "Enlighten me, _Charmaine_. How does one survive, then?"

Diyoza leaned back against the wall, bending one knee to rest her foot on it as well and letting the large semi-automatic rest nonchalantly in her arms like it was merely an accessory to her outfit. The stance gave her a strange and unique combination of casualty and authority that Murphy had long since come to associate with Lexa; the thought amplified the gnawing, uncomfortable feeling of dread that was already bordering on panic inside his chest. "By making sure you're not the only one who gives a shit whether or not you're alive." Paxton just looked at her blankly, and she rolled her eyes.

"You saw what happened up there in the docking bay. Their Commander went down, and not a single one of them hesitated even with a gun aimed at them. We could have blown them all to hell, for all they knew. They've done some really stupid, really insane shit to keep each other—especially Lexa—alive."

"What's your point, Charmaine?"

Her face tightened slightly as she nonchalantly gestured at him with the barrel of her weapon. "By comparison, I think you're much more likely to kill me yourself, than risk so much as breaking a sweat for me, Pax."

Paxton made a sound reminiscent of a bull readying itself to charge--an enraged snort and huff that was practically a ringing alarm announcing itself that he was nearing his tipping point. Being well-versed in dealing with the fallout of others' rage and respecting Diyoza enough not to put a bullet in the man's head, Murphy took a deep breath before making his grand entrance.

"Insane and stupid?" he interrupted as he rounded the corner. "That's a little harsh. Words can sting like a slap, you know.."

Paxton gave Diyoza a focused glare that seemed to suggest it was somehow _her_ fault that Murphy had overheard them.

“Don’t mind him, John. He always gets a little cranky in the afternoon,” Diyoza said dismissively. "Usually just needs a snack and a nap."

“Of course,” Murphy replied, as though that were a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Anyway, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I think maybe we can come to.. some kind of arrangement, that will benefit all of us.”

“Is that so?” Paxton was restless; he’d begun to pace, and his tone was dripping with sarcasm. “You hear that? Your new friend has a better plan than his people dying while we take that valley.”

“Technically, it’s your plan,” Murphy addressed Diyoza, who lifted an eyebrow. “You said it yourself—Lexa’s people would do anything to keep her alive. Because Lexa would do anything to keep them alive. Even turn herself in to someone who wanted her blood.”

Diyoza and Paxton exchanged a glance.

“And what’s that got to do with us? Let her, then,” Paxton managed, before a look from Diyoza temporarily muzzled him once more.

“I could, yeah. But all they offered us in return for her were the kids and _maybe_ not bombing us. But, you know. They're probably gonna bomb us, so we have that to look forward to. So, they just offered us the kids."

Diyoza squinted just slightly at him, her head tilting a bit as she tried to measure his intentions. “And you think they’ll offer more if we’re the ones handing her over?”

“I think if you’re offering to hand her to them, you can _demand_ more. Like the kids, and peace, and part of the valley for your many, many, people she doesn't even know exist. Enough people to hold the valley against _Wonkru_ if she changes her mind."

“What’s in it for you, John?”

“Arkadia's already overcrowded, and I’m not exactly.. _Wonkru_ material. I thought you might have room for a few more crew members. Especially since you’re down a pilot, and I just happen to be in a really weird relationship with one..”

“You’re thinking you and your girlfriends might like a couple of these jumpsuits," Diyoza realized slowly.

“Khaki really brings out the green in my eyes." Murphy shrugged a little. "And I’d like to.. uh, _keep_ my eyes, too. Don't really see that happening in _Wonkru_..”

“This is ridiculous! Are we really going to stand here and listen to this? They’re playing some kind of game, and we’re _gonna_ lose,” Paxton exploded, grabbing Murphy by the collar and holding a knife at his throat. “Tell us the truth, asshole. What’s your endgame?”

Murphy looked back at him with a disaffected expression. "Living. Why, what's yours?"

Diyoza just looked over with annoyance. “Paxton.. Put him down and get lost, would you? I’m sure there’s some kind of small animal left for you to go torture out there. You know, if you’re bored.”

Paxton snarled as he shoved Murphy free from his grip roughly, and fixed Diyoza with a cold glare. “I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing, _Charmaine_.”

“I always know what I’m doing,” she replied simply. “That’s why _I’m_ in charge, and you’re just a foot soldier. And a reminder of the consequences of not knowing _who_ you’re doing.”

Ignoring his wounded expression, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand and then turned to face Murphy.

“So, how would this work?”

♾

Lexa found Clarke rather quickly. She hadn’t had much of a chance to go far; Raven had managed to somehow convince her to get something to eat, and so Lexa trailed her back to their room onboard the Eligius, each of them carrying food they knew they would likely not eat.

And of course, the weight of the world on their shoulders, and the tension being what it was between them, they almost immediately began arguing. Lexa couldn’t even remember how it had begun; only that it had started out being about the kids, and the missile, and had ended up with Lexa snapping at Clarke for being so pessimistic about the state of things. She had begun to speak as though launching a missile was a good idea—and the only idea that would work, to boot.

“You’re one to talk about a positive outlook,” Clarke muttered in response to the accusation, studiously avoiding talking about the missile. “You’ve been extra pissed off since you found out about the data corruption.”

Lexa huffed indignantly. “I am _upset_ that my entire existence has been compromised by the worst monster to ever walk this planet. You act as though I should be far beyond being upset about this by now.”

“Well, maybe you should!” Clarke responded honestly—but unexpectedly. “I’m sorry. But _god_ , Lexa, it could be _so_ much worse than it is. It’s four percent! A tiny little bit of data; not even enough to make any sense to the smartest woman on the entire planet. How can you not just.. be _grateful_? It’s not like he completely took over you!”

Lexa stood, also snapping unexpectedly; so much so in fact, that Clarke flinched at the harsh tone in her voice.

“It would have been easier if he _had_ taken over entirely! But _this_?” Lexa gestured at her own head emphatically. “This is a fate far worse than death, Clarke.”

“How can you _say_ that?” Clarke was appalled, her voice rising several octaves higher.

“Because I will never again know if my thoughts are my own, or if they are tainted by that.. that _monster_. I'll never be whole again, part of him will always be a part of me now. And it's my fault, Clarke. I made an alliance with that— _monster_. I—I _let_ him in. I let him in, I _helped_ him, and now he is a _part_ of me. Forever!”

“You didn’t do any of this to yourself, Lexa. You are not part _Sheidheda_ , just because a couple of his ones and zeros got mixed in with yours. Your thoughts are still yours, your memories are yours.” Clarke’s voice broke hard, and she took a breath that did nothing to help.

“ _I_ am,” Clarke finished with a breathlessly high pitch, her voice cracking as her chest heaved with the arrival of the tears that welled in her eyes. "I’m still yours, Lexa. Why isn’t that enough? Why am _I_ not enough for you? Why can’t.. why can’t you think about that, instead of the bad things, just for a little bit? Why can’t you just.. appreciate this second chance we've gotten?”

Clarke’s ongoing optimism in the face of stark reality was something Lexa had been drawn to. It was the only reason she let _Skaikru_ live, once upon a time. Clarke’s outlook had always been brighter than Lexa’s own; had inspired Lexa’s own to improve as well. Lexa had always loved that about Clarke, but now it just made her feel weary and somewhat resentful. Sometimes there was only one path through the day, and it had to be reality; hope wasn’t always an option, no matter how much you might want it to be.

“Is _this_ our second chance, Clarke? The one where you started a war because _Wonkru_ wished to kill someone who was already dead, anyway?” Lexa’s lip curled slightly as she scoffed, and Clarke reeled inside with the weight of her words. “Tell me it would not have been _better_ , been more _simple_ , had _Sheidheda_ been the one inside this body they wished to kill.”

Clarke didn’t reply, and it just seemed to push Lexa even further off the rails. Her voice raised in both volume and pitch, becoming a clear challenge as she snapped, “Come on, Clarke. Lie to me! Tell me that is _not_ a problem that would have solved itself easily enough. That is practically the garbage taking itself out.”

“ _Simple_?” Clarke’s voice was barely a whisper in its horrified disbelief, and she took a step closer to Lexa, clenching and unclenching her fists at her side as she tried desperately not to lose her cool. “In what universe do you think it would be _simple_ for me to just hand you over to _Wonkru?_ To watch you—your body—die, no matter where the hell your damn spirit was?”

Lexa took a few slow breaths, trying to calm herself; but she found herself instead growing more enraged and less controlled with each passing moment that she looked into Clarke’s worried face, seeing the tears threatening to escape from rapidly welling clear blue eyes. Clarke’s own weakness was more visible, more present, more viscerally _obvious_ to Lexa, than ever, and it was making her feel dizzy; sick, and repulsed.

The large welts and dark bruises from Gaia's hands; the deep trenches and scratches that lined all of her from Lexa's nails and teeth. The wounds where Lexa had clawed and bitten in a violent frenzy as she punished Clarke’s body for the heinous crimes her own had committed. Punished Clarke for the unconscionable grief and guilt Lexa had felt in her own chest knowing her children lay only a quarter klick away—dead, destroyed, and gone in every sense.Some part of her _had_ blamed Clarke, truth be told.

Lexa's own absence had been involuntary, after all; she was captured, and caged, and controlled. But Clarke? Clarke had _chosen_ ; initially, anyway. Nobody had poured it down her throat; certainly no one had even so much as encouraged it. They had tried to stop her, in fact, and her emotions had interfered as they always seemed to, and she _again_ would not listen to reason. Clarke had chosen to go into the cage because she’d been under the mistaken impression that one could leave a cage whenever they felt like it—which would defeat the purpose of a cage in the first place.

What animal cages _itself_? An animal who doesn’t know any better, who won't survive. A _weak_ animal.If Clarke had just let things _be_ , just for once.. If she hadn’t pretended to be the Commander and gotten herself taken prisoner, Madi and Aden would not have been out there in the first place. It was only sheer, dumb luck that they survived the battle, and had not been the ones to lay dead and disintegrating in a fire at the end of it.

All of it could have been avoided, if Clarke would stop trying to _fix_ everything—and everyone—all the time.

Yes, a small part of Lexa blamed her; just as much as Lexa blamed herself. Had, for a brief moment, felt something reminiscent of a melancholy, passive yet deep sort of hatred towards her--much less than she'd felt for herself, but still there. Snugly nestled in the deep trench between love and hate, between comfort and danger, between ground and sky; somewhere between the joy and devastation, the connection and the cruelty; the gap of the distance between them that had haunted them both for years had begun to splinter and widen. Since that moment, Lexa had feared it was a split too large to heal, and then begun wondering which of them would be the first to tumble into the gorge and disappear forever. 

Yes. In that singular, oppressive moment she had hated Clarke for an instant and blamed Clarke for her own treacheries, her own pain. She couldn’t punish herself the way she could punish Clarke though, and she felt an uncomfortable darkness filling her chest and growing larger as her mind spun with painful truths and accusations. Lexa felt quite out of control of herself at the moment—something that did nothing at all to improve her disposition or cool her fury.

“You do not need to tell me how incapable you would be of such a thing, Clarke,” Lexa bit off, her voice tensed and slightly sick as she aimlessly paced the small area in a tight grid; her voice snapping past her lips with a quiet bubbling of rage just below the surface that even she hadn't anticipated.

“I spent the last six years as proof of your inability to watch my body die.”

Her tone was nearly unrecognizable, and also seemed to be unfortunately out of her control at the moment. She watched from somewhere inside herself with a horror that ran deep inside her tightening chest as Clarke’s face shattered; as the dams behind her eyes shattered, as her heart shattered. Lexa was overcome with dread, and though she wished she could capture her words and take them back, she knew the desire was pointless.

You couldn't change the past. You couldn't know the future. You couldn't take back the pain you caused someone, no matter how much you regretted it. You couldn't delete the part of your brain where the darkness lived. It was like a storage room—dank and musty, full of old things that were mostly worthless to anyone else, but still you held onto them anyway, just in case one day they were important again. If Lexa's mind was a crowded storage room, then _Sheidheda_ had come in like a massive storm and thrown her world into a spiral. He'd leveled the neat shelves and knocked over boxes that she'd spent so much time organizing, and then split himself into a million tiny pieces and hidden—or so it seemed—inside all the tiny cracks and corners and up in the rafters of her fractured, fearful mind. Biding his time, no doubt, until he regained his strength and burst forth from the storage to the rest of the house. And no matter how much you might want to, no matter how hard you might try? There was simply no way to stop the avalanche of darkness that fell on you—and anyone else close enough to the darkest corners of your fractured, wounded mind.

It might have been a few seconds or a few minutes; Lexa was in such stunned horror at herself that time ceased being linear and instead became some strange, multidimensional and overly complex geometric form she couldn't make sense of. It felt like yesterday and tomorrow had become confused and slammed into each other, each sending the other into an unpredictable tailspin of past and present, physical and ethereal. Something that felt like the hollow pain that had burrowed into her chest and nearly brought her to her knees as she'd stood near the door to Mount Weather watching Clarke walk away for what Lexa had genuinely thought would be the last time ever. Feeling her heart growing dark. The walls around her heart building back up brick by brick. The darkness that had built up inside her with a rage and hopelessness she'd felt only once before--when she'd come home from a meeting with her Ambassadors--one where Nia had been unconventionally agreeable--to find Costia's head waiting for her on her pillow.

Like having the floor mats pulled from beneath you; it was something physical and present and real, and something else simply _more than_ , that Lexa could feel fracturing in her heart as Clarke’s heartbroken expression melted into an icy, enraged one instead. Her tone was incredibly sharp and cruel as her dark gaze locked onto Lexa’s, whose face was also rapidly changing; going stark and pale as she realized what she'd just said.

“My apologies for keeping you _alive_. I'll try not to do it again,” Clarke’s dangerous whisper was dripping with sarcasm, with darkness. It ran thick and black as Nightblood with the acid that now formed rapidly on her venomous tongue.

“I-I’m sorry, Clarke. I didn’t—“ Lexa started as Clarke turned away from her. Clarke paused with her hand on the door, swallowing hard through a clenched jaw before interrupting Lexa’s protest.

“Whatever you say, _Commander_. You know, feel free to come find me for the other ninety-six percent of the day. Turns out I'm not such a big fan of that other four percent, either.”

Clarke slammed the door behind herself with such force that a stack of books balanced precariously on the corner of a table gave up and fell to the floor with an enormous thud; Lexa couldn’t help thinking to herself that she knew how they must feel. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady herself before she followed Clarke. It was while she was doing that, that she realized what, exactly, she had said to Clarke that had her feeling so shaky—and it had very little to do with the majority of their argument.

“The garbage will take itself out,” she murmured, beginning to fill entirely with a cold dread as she realized why that phrase stuck out to her so intensely; why it felt heavy and sharp on her tongue, why it added an immeasurable weight to her already overloaded shoulders, why she felt nauseated and dizzy, why her legs quivered as she weaved unsteadily on them.

She’d heard that phrase only once before, and she suddenly felt violently ill at the memory that filled her suddenly-aching head.

> “You are thinking very loudly, _Leksa_ , but still you are correct. I am not fool enough to believe that. I wish for the Flame and all within it, myself included, to be destroyed. Perhaps you will live, but that is of no consequence to me. You will live a short, average life and then you will die and leave nothing behind. The Flame will be gone. We will be gone. The time of the Commanders will be over, and it will be the time of anarchy and destruction. Without leadership, they will kill each other and themselves. They will believe the death of another is a step towards their own survival. The garbage, so to speak, will take itself out.”
> 
> “I will know I will no longer be an animal in a cage, crushed under the thumb of _Bekka Pramheda_. I would see it corrected, Lexa. At any cost. Even if it means an alliance with the weakest Commander our world has ever known.”
> 
> “I am not weak.”
> 
> “You _are_ weak,” _Sheidheda_ snapped, his words marinated in disgust. “Your love _makes_ you so.”

Lexa quickly shook it all off--as best she could, anyway. Now was not the time to be thinking about these things; there was too much going on that was far more important at the moment. She’d begun to head for the door a few minutes later, intending to find and apologize to Clarke, when it opened again.

“Thank _jok_ , Clarke. I am so sor--“ Lexa began.

“Uh, sorry, Lex. It’s just me,” Murphy said, popping his head in. “I just saw Clarke leaving the ship, I can go get her if—“

“No,” Lexa said quickly. “No, thank you. I will get her myself once she has cooled off.”

Murphy pressed his lips together tightly and nodded his head a bit. “In that case, can I talk to you about something?”

Lexa cleared her throat. “This is.. not exactly an ideal time, but I assume it is something that cannot wait, or you would be encouraging me to go after Clarke now, rather than later.”

Murphy shrugged a little, his cheeks just slightly reddening to indicate that she had assumed correctly on both points. “I mean, it could wait, but it’s harder to prevent a war once it’s already started.”

“You figured out how to prevent this war?” Lexa frowned, her brain quickly whittling its focus down to what he had just said. Murphy paused briefly, then nodded. Lexa lowered herself into a chair, unconsciously sitting in it as she had always sat on her throne in Polis—regal and yet, somehow, with a comforting air of casualty that made her feel approachable—yet also demanded respect as you approached.

“Please, tell me, John.”

♾

Lexa walked across Arkadia, fairly certain she knew where Clarke had gone after their disagreement. When she peeked into the barn, as expected, Clarke was leaning over one of the stall doors, stroking a beautiful black colt with tears drying on her cheeks and jaw. Clarke didn’t even turn around at first; she knew who had followed her already, and her shame was obvious in her voice.

“I’m sorry I said that, Lexa.” She turned slowly to meet Lexa’s gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat thickly. “It was shitty, and I didn’t mean it. I know you’re.. You.. have a lot to deal with. I should’ve been more, you know..” She gestured for a moment unsurely before just giving up, looking vaguely crushed.

Lexa leaned on the stall door next to her. “I am the one who owes you an apology, Clarke. I should not have said what I did, either. Please believe that I was speaking from a place of anger, not honesty.”

“Me, too,” Clarke whispered, rubbing the little colt’s diamond-marked forehead gently. “But I’m not giving you up. Raven and Monty will get us back into the system, and we won’t need to trade you, because we’ll have a missile.”

“We cannot launch a missile, Clarke. You have no idea how much damage it can do. The last one was launched long before I was born, and it left a hole in the woods you could not see across. We have so little land left as it is. We cannot destroy it, or we will all die anyway.”

“I don’t care, Lexa. If we all die, we all die. But I’m not losing the kids again, and I’m not losing you again,” Clarke responded petulantly, but Lexa just looked at her wearily.

“Why can you not see that this isn’t the way, Clarke? You want to simply kill all of them now, even if it means the end of humanity, of all life on the planet—which includes my own, anyway? You cannot do that Clarke; you _won’t_ do that. I know you. You’ll protect our people before you worry about your own desires,” Lexa shook her head, gazing down at the colt as it shoved its muzzle into her hand. It was almost like the little beast wanted to make her feel better. Lexa wished it were that simple as she gently scratched the colt’s chin, appreciative of the apparent effort.

Clarke’s eyes flashed a bit, her voice growing even more earnest. “There’s no humanity left here, and you know it. We have no choice."

“We always have a choice.”’ Lexa huffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

“Not one where you _and_ the kids survive.”

Lexa lifted her chin slightly upwards, her voice quiet. “I thought life should be about more than _just_ surviving.”

“Yeah,” Clarke muttered, her face betraying her emotions as she lowered her voice a bit. “Well, maybe sometimes it isn’t.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t for you anymore,” Lexa sourly—and unintentionally—muttered under her breath; unfortunately, not quietly enough to keep it from Clarke’s ears.

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” Clarke asked, her brows knitting together as her face rapidly tightened once more, her tone growing vaguely dangerous. The colt shifted away from them uncomfortably, and Clarke turned to face Lexa instead.

“It means you’ve been nothing but a pair of lungs breathing for the last six years, too. Clarke, that was nothing even approaching living. For _either_ of us,” she added, her voice even more bitter than she’d expected. Clarke tensed immediately, a tightness in her chest and legs, her fists unconsciously clenching along with her jaw. 

“I kept us both alive the only way I knew how, Lexa.” 

Lexa let out an appalled, cold laugh of disbelief. “ _Alive_. Machines pumping my blood for me, eating for me, breathing for me. Is that what you consider _alive_ , Clarke?”

“Your heart was still beating, wasn't it? What would _you_ have done, if it was me?” Clarke countered, her eyes locking on Lexa’s. "Tell me you could have killed me. ‘ _Go ahead, Lexa, lie to me',_ ” Clarke mockingly parroted her own words back to her, her tone a haughty challenge, and Lexa began to melt down.She hadn’t felt it coming, so quickly had it crept up on her; so much so, that even she was unprepared when her voice raised significantly as she snapped her response at Clarke.

“I would have let you die with some _dignity_ , Clarke! With _honor_! I would _never_ leave you in a prison cell, alone, I would never lea—leave you—trapped—“ Lexa’s voice began to fracture as she weaved on her feet, her words failing her as she spun out and out and out and finally shattered. The world fell away and Clarke quickly wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly and swaying gently with her as they sank to the ground together.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry, Lexa..”

“I was alone. I was _alone_..” Lexa buried her face in Clarke’s shoulder, crying softly as she held onto Clarke like a raft in the ocean. Clarke just rocked her rhythmically, ignoring the tears on her own cheeks as she did. She held Lexa tight against her chest, whispering to her.

“You’re not alone now. Listen to me, _Heda_. We’re not alone; _you’re_ not alone. I’m here, and you’re here, and we—we're gonna be okay.” Clarke sounded less certain of her latter point, but Lexa barely even noticed.

“I got _so_ lost, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her voice strained as she clung to Clarke like her life depended on it. “I was so lost.. I couldn’t find my way out, and then.." She shook her head, the sudden wave of emotions making her feel disoriented. "I don't know, I heard your voice, and you had.. somehow, you found me..”

“I’ll always find you," Clarke implored, cupping her cheek gently. "In any life, on any planet, in any universe. Today, tomorrow, a hundred years from now. I’ll always find you, Lexa. I’ll never stop finding you."

Clarke stroked her hair, her voice thick with emotion as she kissed her temple softly before lowering her head just enough to capture Lexa's gaze with her own. “And we’ll get the kids back. No trade necessary. We’ll figure something out, just like we always do. _Ogeda, hodnes_.”

[Together, love]

Lexa merely nodded shortly, resting against her chest and closing her eyes briefly. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she’d been able to convince Lexa not to sacrifice herself.There were other ways to get the kids back; there had to be, and they would find one of them. Together.

♾

“I’ll give you points for creativity,” Gaia’s voice finally responded. Diyoza looked at Murphy and raised her eyebrow, prompting him to shrug a little.

“Does that mean we have a deal?” Diyoza replied, glancing to Paxton, who was working his jaw in annoyance but remaining blessedly silent.

“Tell Raven I was wrong about them not receiving a better deal. Because here it is. We know Arkadia has a rover, and we know it is left unguarded. Use it. This deal expires at sunset; the same time we launch the last missile. Have Lexa here by then, and you have your deal.”

“All of it?” Diyoza pressed, and there was a short pause before Gaia responded.

“All of it. You have my word.”

Diyoza looked at Murphy, clearly impressed by him as she replied, “See you at sunset, then.”

She put the radio back, and Lexa gave a short nod just as Raven came through the door. Everyone froze, and Raven stopped, a frown taking over her face.

“What.. is going on here?” She asked, glancing back and forth between all of them.

Diyoza caught Murphy’s eye, and he shook his head ever so subtly to let her know Raven wasn’t in on it. Diyoza rolled her eyes as she closed them briefly, her annoyance obvious as she grabbed Lexa and held her knife against her throat. Lexa instinctively gave an indignant cry, not having expected it.

“We’re putting an end to this, Raven. I’m sorry that this is how it needs to be, but..” Diyoza shrugged a little. “This _is_ how it needs to be.”

“What do you mean?” Raven dropped the stack of books she’d been carrying onto the counter. “What the hell is 'this'?”

“We made a deal. New Polis gets Lexa, and leaves the rest of us alone. Including the kids, whom you’ll get back, alive. As long as you don’t interfere with any of this,” Diyoza explained, her eyes locked on Raven’s.

Raven just looked sick and full of disbelief as she looked to Murphy. “And you’re just.. watching all this happen? Were you planning to intervene, or are you busy thinking about your next snack break?”

He didn’t respond, and Luna, who had been a few moments behind Raven with her own stack of books, paused in the doorway, setting the books down slowly and raising her hands in surrender. She slowly inched towards Raven, her eyes scanning the room.

“Trading one life for hundreds of others is a no-brainer. That’s a leadership decision anyone would make, and Lexa’s made her choice. She’s coming with us,” Diyoza informed them, beginning to move towards the doorway, but taking the knife from Lexa’s throat as they did. “She’s coming voluntarily Now, you can make this easy for everyone and _let_ her, or I can have my men escort you to a holding cell, and we’ll still go. If it were me, I’d pick the option that leaves you here to finish whatever it is you’re doing on that computer.” Diyoza pointed out coolly.

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you take her,” Raven’s brow furrowed, and she straightened her posture even further, her hand on her gun. Luna put her hand gently over hers, shaking her head a bit. Reluctantly, Raven’s fingertips abandoned the weapon at her side and clenched into a fist instead, as Diyoza and her men began to walk out the door lock with Lexa sandwiched between them.

“This was always how it must be. Exchanging my life for all of yours is a more than fair trade.” Lexa’s voice was soft but very sincere when she continued, “I am sorry, Raven. This _is_ how it must be.”

“No,” Raven snapped, moving as though to follow them when Murphy grabbed her arm, gently holding her back.

“She’s coming willingly,” Diyoza said meaningfully. “I don’t want to have to hurt you and change that.”

“Just try it! You can’t _do_ this,” Raven insisted, wrenching her arm free from Murphy’s grasp.

Diyoza merely ignored her, addressing Murphy directly as he gave up, letting go of Raven. “Thanks again for your help.”

Murphy shrugged a bit, glancing unsurely at Lexa, who was looking back at him pleadingly. He swallowed hard before looking back to Diyoza. “Just trying to survive.”

One of Diyoza’s crew approached and Murphy put his arms out for the stack of jumpsuits she offered him. He carefully avoided Raven’s gaze as her eyes scanned the Eligius logo that was visible on the first uniform in the stack. Slowly—ever so slowly—it began to dawn on her. Raven stared in horror at him, her heart in her throat and her face rapidly growing pale and bloodless before darkening slowly. The guilt was written all over Murphy’s own face, though he continued avoiding looking directly at her. Raven’s stomach turned and she felt unstable and dizzy, like the first time she’d been in zero-G, before she had acclimated. She practically weaved as her hand dropped to her hip on autopilot.

Raven blinked in disbelief, her eyes quickly filling up as she shook her head slowly with a strained, whispered, “No.”

“Raven, I—“

“ _Shof op_!” Raven sobbed, her voice so loud it echoed off the metal walls like a stadium loudspeaker. Her hand had raised with her gun in it, pressing the barrel of it hard against Murphy’s forehead as he stared at her in shock.

[Shut up!]

“Just _shut up_ , Murphy! You never changed, you stupid, _selfish_ , asshole!” Raven hissed, her voice growing shaky as she continued, becoming less and less in control of her emotional state. “You're still a lousy, worthless cockroach, a pathetic leech who'd give up your own family just to make your life a little more _comfortable_ and easy!”

She’d flung the last bit of her statement at him with so much force that it was nearly surprising it hadn’t physically injured him. His face was a mask of guilt and heartbreak, but, Raven thought offhandedly, who cared? He _should_ feel guilty! He’d betrayed Lexa, betrayed their family, their people; betrayed Luna..

Betrayed _her_. After everything they'd been through--after he had slept in her bed, holding her close and tight like she was something precious and worthy. Like he would keep her safe and protected and held and loved in the quiet bubble of oblivion that floated between himself and Luna. Like he would never hurt her again; never again care more for his own life than hers. 

It might have been easier if he had just put another bullet in her, Raven thought a little deliriously, as she shook under the crushing weight of her new truth. Tears of the most virulent, strongest hate Raven had ever felt in her entire life streamed down her face, and the hand pointing the gun at Murphy was incredibly unsteady as the cold metal pressed harder against his forehead. Raven’s chest was heaving and she was very near hyperventilating, her hand shaking harder as her fingertip brushed the trigger. Luna rested her hand gently on her shoulder, her voice tearful and hitched as well.

“Raven.. Raven, _hodnes_ , he made his choice.” Raven’s gaze met hers, eyes wide and streaming tears, her face crumpling anew. Luna nodded just a bit, cupping Raven’s cheek gently. “He made his choice, love. Lexa’s made hers, too. _Hodnes_ , we have to let them go. You can’t stop it by becoming a killer, too.”

[(my) love]

Raven didn’t reply, but she did allow Luna to gently pry the gun from her hand after a moment. Murphy was still staring back at her silently, with tears welling behind his reddened, fearful eyes. Raven turned slowly, until she was looking directly at the first tear that was escaping down his cheek. The sight of it was enough to snap Raven back into the moment, and her rage boiled over. How dare he cry, when he was the one who had brought this moment down on them in the first place? How dare he try to co-op the pain that he had caused?

“You son of a _bitch_ ,” she hissed with more vitriol than she knew she possessed, right before her closed fist met his cheek at the exact location the tear was lingering. Murphy’s head snapped to the side, and in the same motion, she punched him a second time before he’d even registered the first hit. Several of the Eligius guards began to raise their guns on her, but Diyoza put her hand out quickly to stop them as Luna struggled to restrain Raven for a moment before managing to do so--after she'd punched Murphy with alternating fists half a dozen times, her punches growing weaker as the air was forced from her lungs more quickly than it could be replenished. 

Murphy’s cheekbone was already red and angry around the scar there, and several of the blood vessels in his eyes were clearly burst; but even then, he said nothing. Raven pulled against Luna's grip, but all of her energy was focused in the feral screams she repeatedly flung in Murphy's direction and the enraged insults that tumbled from her mouth as though she could form her words into knives and slice into him the way she'd just been cut into. 

“ _Say_ something!” Raven demanded through her tears. When he still didn’t reply, she screamed at him, “Say _something_ , you backstabbing coward!”

But he didn’t; and when Raven had screamed that she hated him several times and then deflated and hopelessly dropped her fists to her side, Diyoza ordered her people once more to move out. Lexa didn’t so much as glance at anyone, keeping her eyes trained forward as she exited the ship and got into the rover.

Raven weaved unsteadily as the last of her energies left her. She held onto Luna as they dazedly followed the others outside the ship, where one of Diyoza's other men was waiting behind the wheel of the rover. Murphy gave them both one last, long look, as he followed Diyoza and the others into the stolen Rover. He climbed in beside Lexa, who remained expressionless and facing forward as the rover lurched forward and began to make its way out of Arkadia. Murphy hung his head out the window a bit, still looking back at them, his face totally unreadable by Raven for the first time in years.

Luna wrapped her arms around Raven, rocking her gently on the floor as she sobbed until she was out of breath again, and then kept crying anyway. Raven found herself utterly unable to take any comfort in anything at that point; not even Luna’s arms. Luna found herself feeling similarly as they held each other and cried.

A short while later, when Clarke came in with Echo in tow to let the others know the search party had returned, it was Luna who explained what had happened. Then it was Echo and Octavia who held Clarke as she, too, fell to the ground. Her sobs reverberated through the enclosed area, making it feel even more claustrophobic than it already did as she once again lost her hope; as she once again lost Lexa.


	20. Salvation Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven races against time to protect her family, stop a war, and save the world. As usual.

It's a long road we've been walking on

It's a shallow road we've been walking on

Sometimes, sometimes my mind is too strong to carry on

When I am alone, when I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone

When I've lost all care for the things I own

That's when I miss you, you who are my home

Here is what I know now goes like this:

I say, in your love, my salvation lies, in your love

My salvation lies, in your love

\- Kat Cunning, “Orange Sky”

**Two Days Later**

“Raven?”

A minute passed. Then another.

“Raven, come on.”

Fingers continued flying over the keyboard, generating a series of soft clicking sounds that filled the cavernous, mostly empty space in the cockpit of the Eligius.

“Raven, please? We have to get ready to go.”

“No,” Raven finally snapped, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her. “I’m not going. I told you that already. Eight times. Nine, now, and I’m still not going. There’s an even ten.”

Luna rested her hands on her shoulders, kissing the top of her head softly. “I know you don’t want to go. But they’re going to let us see Lexa before she goes to the pit. They’re giving her a chance, at least, Raven.”

Raven let out a loud, “Hah!”

Luna closed her eyes briefly. “I know you thi—“

“No! Luna, you can’t. Please,” Raven spun the chair around so quickly that Luna’s hands were left hovering in mid-air, where Raven’s shoulders had been only a moment ago. “You _can’t_ be about to tell me you think it will be a fair fight. You can’t _possibly_ be trying to convince me there’s any chance in _hell_ they’re going to let Lexa go, even if she manages to win against every single fighter they're gonna throw at her.”

Luna just looked at her quietly, shaking her head a little. “I don’t know. Maybe. I'm sorry, but I honestly don’t, Raven; nobody _knows_ how things will turn out. Either way, don’t you want to at least see her? Say.. say your—” Luna’s voice hitched emotionally. “Your goodbyes?”

Raven refused to meet Luna's gaze. “Tell her goodbye for me.”

She turned her chair slowly back towards the console, ignoring the pained expression on Luna’s face as she added under her breath, “Him too.”

“This is about John."Of course it wasn't a question; Luna already knew the answer. Raven shut her eyes, her fists clenching tightly as she strained to hold back the sob that threatened to bubble free from her throat.

“Raven,” Luna started softly. Her voice was more soothing and lyrical than ever, but it didn’t work. Raven was too close to her breaking point already, and the gentle familiar cadence of her own name made her snap like a rubber band stretched well past its limits.

“Of _course_ it is!” Raven blew up, slamming her hands on the console before she stood, twisting carefully around her braced leg to face Luna once more. “Of _course_ it’s about that—that— _lying_ , slimy, conniving, hear—heartless— _ass_ —assho--“ Raven stuttered, her voice breaking. “Th—that bastard—he’s a—a _stranger_! I had a stranger in my _bed,_ Luna!”

“So did I!” Luna snapped back, her eyes welling up as she reeled in surprise at herself. She softened her tone again quickly, but it remained serious and the hurt still lingered on her face.

“It’s my bed, too. _We_ had a stranger, in _our_ bed, and _both_ of us are hurting. And I am choosing to deal with it by going to say goodbye to one of my best friends; supporting her in her last fight. The same way I would do if it was _you_ headed into that pit. The same way _Lexa_ would if it was you or I.”

"Lexa would never let us go into the pit in the first place," Raven countered, looking vaguely wounded when Luna outright scoffed in response.

"Not today, she wouldn't," Luna agreed, but there was a darkness beneath her words that caught in her throat. "But before the hundred landed? Before _Praimfiya_ , even? Things were different. _We_ were different. Don’t you see that, Raven? Can’t you see how much you’ve changed the world? How you’ve changed all of us? You, Clarke, Octavia, Bellamy.. All of you. Look at us. Look at Lexa, at Lincoln. Roan and Echo. The kids."

Her voice caught in her throat on the latter, and Raven’s face began to soften slightly as a fresh deluge of tears began running down Luna’s cheeks.

"Look at _me_ ,” Luna’s whisper fractured near the end, making it clear that she was nearing her seemingly unobtainable breaking point, and Raven swallowed hard. She wanted to stay angry, but Luna was making it extraordinarily difficult for her.

“You fell from the sky, and threw the whole world-- _my_ whole world--into a tailspin. I can’t even put it into words, Raven; the effect _you_ ,” Luna reached out and touched her chin gently, smiling just a little through her watering eyes, “You, _niron_ , have had on my life. On all of our lives. Nothing was what we thought it was.”

[darling]

Luna made as if to reach for her, and Raven shifted out of the way so quickly she briefly lost her balance; but she felt her resolve beginning to splinter, particularly when she felt Luna’s fingertips brushing her jaw. She hadn’t let anyone touch or even really speak directly to her since Murphy had left with Diyoza and Lexa. It had been too hard to process everything already; she'd felt like the gentlest of touches, particularly from Luna, would fall heavy as a boulder onto her shoulders and force her into a crippling sensory overload.

"Nothing was what we thought it was either. Nothing was wha... Was what I thought it was. I thought.." Raven chuckled awkwardly at herself, her shame suddenly visible as she continued.

"God, I was so naive. So _stupid_. I really thought everything was going to be okay up there. They would try Finn when he turned 18, give him a second chance, since he was a kid. I mean, who wants to float an 18 year old kid because they stole something from a lunchbox when they were four, right? So he'd be free, and I'd be waiting for him, of course. In some really nice digs on the upper levels of Mecha Station, maybe even near a viewport, where he could look out whenever I had repairs on Mecha. I'd keep working my way up the ladder, start making good credits in a couple years. Then we'd have a kid, grow old and grey and die stupidly happy and together.." Raven paused, a faraway look in her eyes.

"We always talked about how we were gonna make our kid a real, you know.. priority, in our lives. So they'd know they weren't just a quota kid or a credits baby. They'd know they were loved." She looked mildly ashamed as she shook her head a little, muttering, "It was stupid. Thinking Finn and I were forever. Like thinking He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was ever anything more than the weasel who shot me just to save his own ass. I thought _he_ loved me, too."

Luna gazed at her intently and silently for a long minute as her resolve began to splinter and crumble away. Luna smoothed her hair back gently, coaxing her closer as Raven's face turned red with the effort of holding back her tears.

"It's not stupid, Raven. You.. Just listen to me, you brilliant, beautiful, insanely strong woman: _Ain niron, yu sou laik hod in_.." she whispered, cupping Raven's cheek and pressing her own against her temple as she pulled her closer.

[My darling, you are so loved.]

They remained like that for a long time, tangled in each other's arms in quiet reverie. Luna wanted the moment to linger for eternity, in truth; but they were on a tight time frame, and they hadn't yet packed for the trip to New Polis. She bit her lip for a moment before she reluctantly forced herself to disturb the warmth of the moment that lay between them.

"Raven, we both know Lexa would have done this either way. We _all_ know it. At least doing it this way, John's way, we avoid war. We avoid _more_ killing, _more_ unnecessary deaths.”

Raven trembled lightly as she forced her mouth open to speak, but only a silent breath escaped as her throat hitched. She glanced sideways at Luna, her tone more tearful than angry as she said softly, “Not Lexa's."

Luna's shoulders slumped slightly as she visibly deflated, her voice quiet and hollow when she replied, "No. Not Lexa's."

“There’s no round of 'Anywhere But Here' and no lullaby that can make any of this okay,” Raven whispered, her voice cracking harder as Luna’s welling eyes mirrored her own. “I can’t go. I can’t. I need to keep working the problem. I can fix this. There’s still time to fix this, okay? Please, I _need_ to be here, Lune, trying to save her; not there watching her die. O-okay? Please say okay," she implored.

Luna bit her lip, but nodded a little, her voice soft. “Okay. Okay, well, I _have_ to go. I need to be _there_ , not here. Y—you understand that, right? That it’s not about us?”

Raven nodded a little, reaching out to gently stroke the back of her hand along Luna’s cheekbone, her voice soft and gravelly. “I understand that. I want you to go, Luna. I just.. _I_ can’t. Okay?”

Luna closed her eyes tightly, giving Raven a few rapid nods before opening them and cupping her hands over hers. She kissed Raven softly, lingering for a minute before reluctantly pulling back.

“We’re not leaving until noon. So there’s still a little time, if you change your mind. Come see us off, at least?”

“‘Kay,” Raven merely grunted as she lowered herself back into the seat, returning to the computer screen with such intensity, it was as though she’d never left it. Luna swallowed hard, sparing one more glance towards her before heading out of the cockpit again.

♾

“Raven?”

Raven startled at the voice that came from behind her, looking up to see Madi lingering unsurely in the doorway.

“Sorry,” she continued, tapping her fingers on the doorframe. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Raven shook it off. “It’s okay, Madi. Did uh—did Luna send you? Cause, really, I’m fine. I don’t know what she sai--“

“No,” Madi interrupted. “No, Luna didn’t send me. Um, I guess, technically, Titus did. I—I thought I should wait, that’s why I didn’t show you when we got back, because of—uh—things. With.. him. But, um—I know you’re still working things out, and, uh. I dunno, I thought maybe these could help?“

Raven furrowed her brows as Madi approached, holding her hand out. In her palm, which now had a long scar running from one side to the other, were five small, translucent bits of plastic. Flat and geometrically shaped, with a figure 8 stamped into each.

“That’s the same symbol that’s on the Flame,” Raven breathed, leaning in for a closer look. She lifted one of them, inspecting it. “The sacred symbol. Madi, where did these come from?”

“Titus,” she replied quietly. “He didn’t know what they were. Gaia gave them to him, and he was supposed to give one to Chancellor Kane, but said he couldn’t. Um, he said something about.. some kind of creature taking over Gaia, and it being connected to these somehow. He—He wasn’t making a lot of sense,” Madi’s voice faltered, remembering how delirious he had been as the life had begun to leave him.

Raven took the other discs from her, setting them down on the desk with an increasingly intense expression.

“I know what they are. Can you get Emori for me?” Raven asked, then added, “Quickly, please.”

Madi nodded, her eyes wide as she turned and began jogging towards the exit of the Eligius.

♾

Emori squinted at the disc, her forehead creased in concentration.

“I’ve seen this before,” she mumbled distractedly. “Not up close, but I would stake my life that this is what Jaha’s people were peddling. Back when we first went underground. There was a big push from _Audaskai_ , and they were recruiting like crazy for a bit. Then they took over the hydrofarm, and..”

Raven looked troubled.

“I didn’t even realize it,” Emori said darkly, her chest tightening. “I should have seen it. If not then, at least, when I saw the Flame.”

“They’re mind drives,” Raven confirmed. “That’s what I thought, too. But not til I'd gotten a good, close, look at them," she added pointedly. "Also, this is a no self-flagellation zone, so leave your guilt in the airlock and help me figure this out."

“I don’t get it,” Emori replied, shaking her head as she handed the disk back to Raven. “Why would Jaha hand out mind drives? Was he looking to—what, use the rest of _Wonkru_ as new bodies for _Audaskai_?”

“Maybe,” Raven said, shaking her head as well. “I don’t know. That seems pretty shortsighted, even for Jaha, though.”

She leaned back slowly, tapping her fingertip on her thigh for what seemed like a long time. Emori frowned, spinning inside her own head as well. Suddenly, Raven shot forward with wide eyes.

Emori looked up quickly. “What is it?”

Raven didn’t answer; she merely stood and began making her way across the cockpit, gesturing for Emori to follow her. “Come on.”

Emori obediently followed her, not bothering to ask where they were going. She’d figured out pretty quickly that when Raven was on a roll with something, it was best to just follow her lead and not ask questions.

So, she followed Raven out of the cockpit and down to MedBay. She watched curiously as Raven dug around in several drawers before making her way over to the main console with a small container in her hands.

Emori followed her over quietly, waiting for her to speak.

Raven began rummaging through the small tub. “When we were getting ready for Lexa’s surgery, we pulled these out, remember? We didn’t know what sort of connection we would need, to plug the Flame into the computer system. I thought there might be—A-hah,” she interrupted herself, triumphantly holding up a thin coil of wires that had a slot on the end in the same shape as the discs from _Audaskai_.

Emori looked stunned. “That was.. here? On the Eligius? I thought they were, yunno. _Heda_ 's, or from the Ark. How does the Eligius even--"

Raven set the bucket aside and interrupted her as she headed back to the computer console. “Don’t even get me started, Em. I’ve _never_ had so many conspiracy theories in my head as I do about the Eligius Corporation, and whatever Becca’s company was, that used the sacred-symbol-slash-corporate-logo on all these mind drives.”

Emori slid into the seat beside Raven’s, watching nervously as Raven’s shaky hands attached the electrode to the chip. They both held their breath as she plugged the other end into the computer.

Nothing happened.

They shared a glance, and Raven pulled the cord, then plugged it back in again. Nothing.

A whine of static from the radio startled both of them, and it was Madi’s voice that followed it. “Raven? Uh.. damn it, I don’t know if I’m doing this ri—Well, maybe she’s not _in_ MedBay, Aden, that doesn’t mean I’m doing it _wrong_ —Stop it, you're gonna break it, you stupid _kodchuwa_! Sto--"

[cow]

Aden had apparently decided to deal with his emotions by tormenting Madi in a way he hadn't for years, and Raven couldn't help the briefest of smiles that crossed her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd listened to them interacting and heard children rather than small adults, so it was refreshing and warmed her chest to hear Madi's pitch rise to record levels as she shrieked, "Aden, give it back!"

Aden's taunting voice cut in and out as he presumably dangled the walkie well over Madi's frame, which remained significantly shorter than her peers, and was unlikely to ever catch up to Aden's increasingly impressive height. "Come on, Stretch, you almost got it that time! Where's all that pouncing prowess, _bigasofstepa_ _gada_?"

[lion girl]

"Aden! You'd better stop," Madi warned as her frustration threatened to boil over, but her voice broke near the end and making it sound more like a petulant whine. Aden, accordingly, guffawed loudly.

"Tell you what, _striksis_. You give me one good roar, and I'll give it back. Come on, Simba, just one littl--"

[little sister]

Aden's voice was very suddenly cut off by a hard, thwacking sound, followed by a gasp and then a soft, drawn out groan from him.

Madi's triumphant voice was very clear moments later when she said, "Raven? Are you there?"

Emori glanced at Raven, a bemused smirk on her face. "They always like this?"

Raven smiled sadly, meeting Emori's gaze briefly. "Not for a very long time. It's actually kinda nice to hear them going at it again."

Feeling unexpectedly melancholy as her thoughts began to turn to her own brother, Emori returned the sad smile as Raven depressed the button on the console.

"You found me, Mads. Should I clear a bed in MedBay for Aden?"

Madi snorted. "Nah, he'll live. For now, anyway." Her voice grew slightly muffled, like she had turned her head or lowered the walkie to address Aden directly, when she warned him, "Next time I'll be armed and you'll be _really_ sorry."

Emori let out a snort of her own, and Raven chuckled proudly. "That's my girl. So what's up?"

"I'm sorry, this is probably really important but I just.. somehow I forgot. Just before he.. uh, you know.. Uh, Titus said something about a key. That ‘ _Ascende superius’_ was the key. He didn't say what it opens, though."

Raven and Emori watched in shock and fear as the chip attached to the computer began to light up, and the console gave a few short beeps as it booted something up.

Raven’s eyes stayed focused on the now-active disc, and she distractedly spoke into the radio. “I know what it opens, thanks Madi. 'Bye.”

She set the radio aside and leaned forward beside Emori, both of them watching the glow the disc was emitting that highlighted the small computer chip inside it. They glanced at each other briefly, then back at the console screen.

The screen flickered a few times, and then brought up a solid black background. After a moment, the backdrop changed to the view of a shining, massive metropolis from the old world. A brunette woman appeared, wearing a bright red dress and lipstick the same shade. Every single hair was in place and her soft porcelain skin was clear and even; she was the epitome of professional and well-put-together. Not to mention that she looked surprisingly real for a digitally generated being--Raven actually shifted uncomfortably when it occurred to her that she suddenly understood the emotions caused by the 'Uncanny Valley' phenomenon, because she was experiencing them herself.

“Hello,” she said. “And thank you, Raven and Emori. I had thought these particular keys were lost for good when Marcus Kane confiscated them. This is a relief, although I hardly expected to be speaking to you from inside a screen. Interesting point of access, Raven. You have a singularly unique and impressive mind. You would be an excellent addition to the City of Light, and to my mission.”

Raven and Emori slowly turned to look at each other, their faces matching masks of fear, confusion, and awe.

“You aren’t going crazy. My name is A.L.I.E.,” the woman continued. “I am an artificial intelligence program, designed for the purposes of identifying and solving the world’s problems.”

Raven let out a loud burst of laughter, looking a little crazed. “Well, you’re about a hundred years too late for that.”

A.L.I.E. tilted her head, clearly trying to understand what Raven found so funny. “Am I? There is still a world and still people in it. My purpose can yet be fulfilled, if you’ll help me. Raven, together, you and I can do amazing things. I can show you the City of Light; I can take your pain away.”

Raven bristled, leaning a bit closer to the woman onscreen. “What the hell do _you_ know about my pain?”

She didn’t wait for a response before she pulled the cord, retrieving the chip from it and setting it aside. Silently, she grabbed another of the chips and plugged it in.

“ _Ascende superius_ ,” she told it. As expected, A.L.I.E. appeared again—and she was clearly upset at being cut off.

“Raven, please—we can help each other. Hear me out, Raven.”

“No,” Raven snapped. “You don’t know anything about me, no matter how many times you say my name. You’re a computer program, and one that’s completely obsolete. Sorry, but your ‘mission’ is over with. It failed, the world is gone. It’s a tough break, but you’re gonna have to deal with it just like the rest of us.”

Frustrated, she yanked the cord free again and this time, heaved it across the room with a yell of frustration.

“Why the hell would an AI be on a bunch of mind drives? And why would anyone take one of these things? I mean, what do they do, give her control over people or something? It makes no fucking sense.”

“You’re asking the wrong person, I don’t even wanna be in the same room as those creepy things,” Emori replied with a frown, then looked at Raven as something occurred to her.

“She said she could take your pain away. Some people might find that enticing. Especially if they didn’t know it was only gone because an AI took over their brain. People make bad calls when they’re desperate, and everyone in the bunker was really desperate, Raven. If Jaha offered them answers that Chancellor Kane couldn’t…”

“Damn it all to hell.” Raven blew a few strands of hair off her face, a hard pull in her gut when she was reminded that Murphy wouldn’t be braiding her hair again, ever. She felt herself moving closer to the edge, towards a full blown panic attack, when something clicked in her head. She slowly lifted her head up and began working on the console again without saying a word.

Emori tried, but she couldn’t really make much sense of the screen. It was worse than being a foreign language, it was more like a language from another universe, as far as she was concerned. Shapes and symbols, nonsense letters and numbers all jumbled together.

Unsurely, Emori turned to Raven. “Can I.. help in some way, or uh—should I leave—?”

Without pausing in her typing for even a moment, Raven replied, “Go to my room, bring me the stack of journals that’s on the nightstand. And the bag that’s with them, please.”

“Got it, Chief,” Emori nodded, getting up quickly and heading for the doorway.

“Hey, Emori? Hurry,” Raven called after her.

Emori hurried.

♾

They managed to catch the rover, barely, before it left for New Polis, and Raven quickly filled the others in on what they’d figured out so far.

“Who else might have one of these, then?” Clarke looked incredibly worried at the prospect.

“No one I can think of,” Emori shook her head. “All of _Audaskai_ is long dead. If someone’s left that has the chip, they’re not recruiting.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “Yes. They are. Only they’re not calling themselves _Audaskai_ anymore.”

“What are they calling themselves?” Echo furrowed her brows, her gut filling with a sense of dread.

Raven’s voice was shaking as the pieces fell into place. “ _Wonkru_. They’re called _Wonkru_ now.”

Everyone seemed to freeze in a state of disbelief and dread.

“ _All_ of them? That’s hundreds and hundreds of people..” Octavia murmured, clearly beginning to panic internally.

“No,” Raven said, her voice filled with absolute confidence. “Not all of them. They wouldn’t have been able to make more chips, if Kane was keeping them from the computer systems in Mount Weather. No, I’d bet my life that it’s just enough of the most influential people to have gained the upper hand over Kane and made him a figurehead—without him even realizing it. People that supported Lexa, devoted their lives to serving her, and suddenly..”

Thinking of Indra with a heaviness weighing down her twisting gut, Octavia’s voice caught in her throat. “Gaia?”

Clarke looked sick. “Who better to lead the anti-Lexa coalition than the _Fleimkepa_ herself? If she turned her back on Lexa..”

“Everyone else would, too,” Octavia finished in a strained whisper.

“If A.L.I.E. targeted influential people,” Raven started hesitantly. “Then how sure are we that Kane isn’t chipped, too?”

“We’re not,” Clarke replied brusquely. “Titus said he wasn’t, but he didn’t even know what these things were, so we can’t take that on faith. We can’t be sure about anyone now. For all we know, even half of Arkadia could be chipped by now—”

“They aren’t,” Bellamy interrupted severely, but his voice was thick with emotion and his eyes kept darting around the expanse of lightly smoldering crops. Lincoln stayed quiet, but his arms were crossed and there was a dark look on his face as Octavia rubbed his back comfortingly. Her face matched his, though, in both seriousness and concern.

Echo rested her hand on Bellamy’s bicep comfortingly, her voice gentle. “How can you be sure, though?”

“We can’t be sure about anything right now,” Emori interrupted. “For all we know, there’s an entire _army_ of sleepers here. For sure there’s sleepers in _Wonkru_. It’s the play I’d make. If I was a homicidal AI bent on destruction, I’d make sure I had a backup plan for my backup plan. The bitch in the red dress has sleepers, I’d stake my life on it.”

“We’re _all_ staking our lives on it,” Clarke corrected. “Bellamy, how sure are you that we can trust anyone else here in Arkadia?”

“Obviously I’m not, Clarke,” Bellamy replied bitterly. “I was sure about Kane, I was sure about the Eligius crew. Once upon a time, I was sure about Murphy. Now I’m not sure about anything. Or any _one_ , for that matter.”

Bellamy didn’t wait for a response before he turned and climbed back into the rover, closing the door with more force than was strictly necessary. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment; ostensibly to collect himself enough for the drive.

“We need to go,” he mumbled unhappily. “If we’re going.”

Clarke looked torn, but Raven rested her hand gently on her arm. “Go to her, Clarke. You’d just get in my way right now, anyway. You know I don’t work well with.. uh..”

“Luddites?” Octavia suggested, earning her an annoyed look from Clarke and a tiny, amused snort that Raven attempted—and failed—to hide.

Clarke took a breath, but acquiesced. “We have a radio. And Madi is.. uh, somewhere. Stables, probably. Or maybe with Reese. She refuses to go, and called us all traitors. And she called some of us other, significantly less kind things.”

The look on Clarke’s face made it clear that she very much felt like Madi was correct, and Raven unexpectedly wrapped her arms around her. Clarke took a shaky, sharp inhale before returning the hug.

“I’m sorry about Murphy,” she whispered into Raven’s ear.

Raven made an uncomfortable noise before replying just as quietly, “I’m sorry about Lexa. I’m not giving up yet, and neither should you. Clarke, if Gaia _is_ under mind control, that means there's a way to fix it. And I'm gonna figure out what it is."

Clarke pulled back, her eyes red and puffy, with dark rings lining them, and Raven briefly wondered when the last time Clarke actually slept had been, before reminding herself they had bigger issues just then. She swallowed hard, and took Clarke’s hand, imploring her.

“I’ll solve it, Clarke. I can fix this."

“You always do,” Clarke replied, her voice cracking, but she didn’t seem nearly as confident in Raven’s abilities as she had been in the past; and frankly, Raven couldn’t blame her. They were down to the wire already, and Raven barely knew where to start. Everything had gone straight to hell practically overnight, and Raven was definitely starting to feel like she was running after it all with an empty handbasket and without a clue.

Not a feeling she was used to, and definitely not one she was enjoying.

As though she could hear her thoughts, Clarke squeezed Raven’s hand gently before sliding into the rover beside a stormy-looking Aden with red rings around his eyes. Bellamy lifted his head up, and his eyes had become fairly red as well. Beside him, Echo rubbed his back gently as he started the rover again.

Raven took a breath and leaned into the vehicle, surprising a silent Luna with a soft kiss and a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Luna kissed her again, holding her gaze for a moment. “ _Ai hod yu in_.”

[I love you.]

“ _Ai hod yu in, sentaim_ ,” Raven replied, her tongue thick with worry as her emotions repeatedly crashed and slammed against the dam she’d put up around them.

[I love you, too.]

“May we meet again,” Raven added quietly, addressing the entire rover and hoping upon hope that she was speaking the truth. Emori repeated the sentiment, uncomfortably pulling her hand back from Roan and then—at his hurt look—she leaned in quickly and kissed his cheek as her own turned red.

Emori and Raven stepped back then, watching as they headed towards the gate, where the others—including Abby, Raven noted—were waiting to join them for the trip. They watched until the rover was out of sight, and then gave each other a sharp nod before heading back to the Eligius, determination showing in every step they took.

♾

It took about an hour, maybe slightly less, for Raven to connect enough pieces to figure out that they were completely screwed.

“We.. are _completely_ screwed,” she announced to Emori, who was reading one of Becca’s journals.

Emori lowered it and raised an eyebrow. “It’s only been an hour. We’ll figure it out. Be optimistic.”

“I did figure it out, and saying 'we’re fucked' _is_ being incredibly optimistic at this point. Look.”

Raven put the other journal down, showing Emori one of the pages, and then gestured to the screen—one she had already explained as well as she could—and said simply, “See?”

Emori frowned and read through both the journal page and screen before looking at Raven, slightly troubled.

“I’m guessing that means what I think it does?”

Raven rubbed her face tiredly, allowing herself a minimalist but primal scream of aggravation as she stood and began to pace slowly back and forth along the console.

“Okay, so, yes, then,” Emori nodded, slumping back in her chair. “It means we need the Flame to disconnect the other chips from the AI program, and make _Wonkru_ not crazy anymore.”

“Too bad this is all we have,” Raven huffed, flinging the dead Flame chip with its singed spindle legs dangling from it, onto the ground. She buried her face in her hands, trying to force herself to take slow, steady breaths despite the massive swirl of panic that was taking up residence inside of her. “A lot of fucking good that’s gonna do us.”

“What about an EMP? You said that would fry these chips, right?”

“Yeah,” Raven drew the word out in a heavy sigh. “But it’ll fry any other chips, too. Including Lexa’s. We’re trying to _avoid_ Lexa dying. Could do a lot of damage to this ship, and Arkadia, too. We can’t risk an EMP that big, even if Lexa wasn’t a factor. And, you know, if we had some way of generating an EMP big enough, too.”

“Which we don’t have even if we wanted to risk it. _Skrish_.” Emori, significantly less hopeful than she’d been a few minutes ago, watched quietly for a minute as Raven paced, though her leg was clearly paining her—just, Emori supposed, not as much as being afraid she wouldn’t be able to save her family was paining her.

[shit]

“Do you need the Flame itself, or just what's on it? Didn’t you dump the extra data?” came a tentative voice from behind them. They both spun around, and Madi stood there, looking at them sheepishly. “When you transferred _just_ Lexa’s consc—“

“—consciousness to the new chip, I dumped the rest of the Flame’s info, Madi, you’re a genius!” Raven’s voice quickly increased in volume as her eyes grew wide. She hobbled quickly over to Madi and grabbed her cheeks, giving her a big kiss on her forehead happily before limping quickly back to her chair, seemingly unfazed that Madi had been lurking there.

Madi shrugged as she joined them. “I’m not a genius, I just learned from one.”

Raven paused just long enough to look at Madi affectionately, with a blush on her cheeks, before going back to whatever she was doing on the computer.

Emori shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. If you dumped the rest of the data, isn’t it gone?”

“Nothing is _ever_ gone when you’re talking about computers, Emori! Love might fade, but computer data is forever.” Raven was positively glowing as she flipped through the journal rapidly, searching for something. "It's why rule number 13 on the Ring was--"

Madi's voice joined hers as they recited in unison, "Log out of the tablet when you're done. Nobody else wants to know."

Raven paused, a sudden faraway look in her eyes as her minds magnetic pole drew her thoughts to execute a few donuts around another universe for a moment.

Madi whispered to Emori, "That was Murphy's rule, after a really uncomfortable situation with him and Octavia."

Raven snapped herself out of it, going back to the screen and taking on a falsely cheerful expression and tone. "We still don't even know which one of them it was, either. They refused to say, but they both turn purple if you ask them abo--Wait," she stopped, turning to Madi again. "How do _you_ know about that? You were like, a little kid."

"Aden told me," Madi shrugged. "Kids hear more than you think. A _lot_ more."

Raven studied her for a second with disbelief, then shook her head and continued her work. "Nope. Not a path we have time to travel right now. But just so you know, you're always gonna be a toddler with a tee shirt on her face, roaring and taking down the Ice Queen in my head."

Madi raised her eyebrow; the one that now bore several stitches from her battle at the mountain. She'd started to formulate a reply--one that included an eyeroll, gently teasing Raven for being sappy before hugging her, and maybe apologizing again--when the screen gave an urgent series of beeps. Raven spun back in her chair, scrolling through the screens so quickly that even Madi could barely read anything on them.

Emori and Madi shared a slightly dazed look then, but Raven stayed silent as she perused the flickering screen.

Finally, Emori cleared her throat awkwardly. “One problem? Even if you can find the data, we don’t have a Flame to put it on. Or a Commander to stick it in, either. So, actually two problems.”

"Three. The data's highly likely to be corrupted once we get it back, and there's a pretty good chance this won't even work at all." Raven informed them calmly--as though it wasn't a large hurdle--and then she paused, glancing at the small pile of chips from Titus, then looked back to Emori, nodding her head towards them.

“You think the chick in the red dress is on every one of those things?”

Emori looked at the pile, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Probably.” She picked up one and held it out, shrugging at Raven. “Means we don’t have to feel bad about erasing her from one, then.”

Raven cocked her head appreciatively as she took it. "I knew I liked you.”

“What about the Nightblood?” Madi spoke up. “You need a _natblida_ to put the chip into, don’t you?”

“Nope,” Raven replied, her fingers furious on the keyboard and pausing only to flip a page in the journal. “The chips from Titus don’t have the same biocompatibility as the Flame. Nice try, but go away now,” Raven shooed Madi, who looked mildly insulted. “No mind drive for you today.”

“I can still help,” Madi insisted. “You can’t take the chip yourself, Raven. You’re the only person who can deal with all this coding junk.”

Raven lifted her head slowly, the wheels clearly turning in her head.

“No, actually. I’m not.”

♾

“I don’t get it,” Tris said with a concerned glance at Raven. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re here to assist me,” Monty announced as he followed Emori into MedBay.

“Wouldn’t you rather have Raven’s help? She knows a lot more than I do.”

It was Raven who replied, from where she lay on a reclined exam chair—the kind you might’ve seen in a dentist’s office, back in the old world—while Emori was affixing various electrodes and wires to her.

“I’m a little busy at the moment. You’ll be fine, Tris.”

“For the record, I _really_ don’t love this idea,” Emori said.

“So you’ve said, four or five times. But we’re doing it, so, make your peace with it already.” Raven’s voice wasn’t unkind; in fact, she’d been damn near bubbly since she’d started finding answers.

Emori flipped a few switches, watching each monitor as it lit up around Raven’s prone body. Her practiced eyes scanned over the screens, taking in the information, and saying again uselessly, “I know we’re doing it anyway, but the odds of me making my peace with that are very, _very_ low. Just so you know. I’m not gonna like this plan ever.”

“Me either, and I don’t even know what it is,” Tris offered, crossing her arms on her chest and uncomfortably surveying the cluster of machines Raven was now plugged into.

Monty sat at the console and motioned for Tris to join him. “Can we just—go over the whole plan, just so everyone’s clear on what we’re supposed to be doing here?”

Raven took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Step one, I take this chip,” Raven pointed to one of the little discs.

“Which has the rescued Flame data on it,” Emori supplied, putting a blood pressure cuff around Raven’s bicep.

“And what’s step two?” Monty asked, turning in his seat. “Cause that’s the only step I’ve heard so far.”

Raven gave him a nervous smile. “We’ll find out once the Flame is in my head.”

Monty just looked at her in dismay. “Okay, now _I_ really don’t love this plan, either.”

“Told ya,” Emori addressed Raven. “This is a terrible plan. What if you just.. _die_ when you take that thing? Didn’t you say that was a possibility with the Flame? Instant death?"

“That won’t happen,” Raven replied with an amount of confidence that she absolutely _had_ to be faking. “The Flame only liquified brains that weren’t _natblida_. Not gonna be an issue here.”

“You hope,” Emori muttered, plugging the cuff in.

“It’ll work,” Raven insisted. “It has to. Or else Lexa dies, and she won’t be the last one, either.”

Madi came back in just then, carrying a thick length of rope on her shoulder. “I found some in the stable. What do you want me to do with it, Raven?”

“Tie me to the table,” Raven replied, drawing the stunned and mildly concerned glances of everyone in the room. She hurried to explain further, “Just in case the chip makes me go psycho or something. So I don’t.. hurt anyone. You know. On the off chance I wake up and I'm Sheidheda or something.” 

Madi made a disapproving face as she reluctantly approached and Tris began to help her tie Raven down. “For the record, this plan is really terrible and I don't like it."

“Making that a unanimous opinion,” Tris responded, pulling the rope under the table and handing it to Madi on the other side. They continued to pass the end of the rope back and forth between them until Raven was well secured in place.

Emori stood at Raven’s head, checking her vitals obsessively. She held the chip up so they could all see it beneath the surgical lamp above them, and there was a collective gulp as they all prepared for whatever was about to happen.

Emori’s gaze locked on Raven’s and, quietly, but firmly, she asked, “Raven. Are you sure about this? I mean, it doesn't have to be you. You could.. put it in me, if you want.” Emori clearly wasn't thrilled about the idea, but she seemed even less thrilled when Raven shook her head.

"You're a doctor, Em. We've all got jobs to do, and that's yours. We need you; I do. We can't risk you." Raven just gazed back solemnly. “And no, I'm not sure about it. I'm not sure about anything, anymore. But what other choice is there?”

There wasn't one, and they all knew it; so Emori took a slow, steadying breath as Madi stood post just beside her, sliding her hand into Raven’s nervously. Tris returned to Monty’s side, her fingertips drumming out a nervous cadence against her thigh as she waited for instructions.

Emori slowly lowered the chip, taking one last breath before holding it in front of Raven’s mouth. Slowly, her eyes still on Emori, Raven opened her mouth and leaned forward. Emori set the chip shakily on the tip of Raven’s tongue, lowering her arm as Raven’s mouth closed around the translucent disc.

They all watched with bated breath as Raven swallowed, visibly shaking despite her seeming confidence, but nothing happened. A minute passed, and then another, as Raven’s vitals started to increase across the board.

Emori’s eyes quickly scanned the readings before falling back to Raven, who was staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Raven?” she whispered. There was no response for a moment, and then Raven’s head slowly turned to the side, so she was looking at Monty’s screen instead.

“If this isn’t an exercise in irony, I don’t know what is,” Raven said, her voice taking on a kind of dark, bemused annoyance.

“What do you mean?” Emori asked as Madi watched them with even more concern on her face.

Raven closed her eyes, laughing just a little. “I’ll admit, I never anticipated any of this when I designed A.L.I.E. I was a good person, you know. I was trying to _save_ the world. Not end it."

Slowly, the others’ faces paled as they realized that whomever they were speaking with, it wasn’t Raven anymore, and Madi shuddered when she began to put the pieces together.

“You're _Bekka Pramheda_ ,” Madi whispered softly. “Aren’t you?”

“The first Commander?” Tris’ voice was full of awe and reverence--right up until Madi gave her a pointed look, reminding her why they were there in the first place. Tris shook off her starstruck wonder, giving Madi an apologetic look, and instead turned her attention to following the information scrolling on Monty's screen.

Raven nodded her head just slightly. “Becca Franco, originally. The A.L.I.E. program—I designed her for simulations. To analyze problems and look for solutions, to improve quality of life for humanity. But there were.. unforeseen events, let’s say.”

“We know,” Madi said, frowning a bit. “You ended the world.”

“I did. _We_ did, inadvertently,” Becca admitted, looking upset with herself. “I was only ever human, too. Imperfect.”

“Now’s your chance to fix it,” Emori said, unconsciously resting a hand on Madi’s shoulder when she saw her beginning to grow even more anxious. “Help us save the world. Help us save Lexa, and all of our people.”

“Of course you _would_ ask me to save Lexa,” Becca laughed, a bit bitterly, and Madi’s stomach did a nauseating flip inside her. “When Lexa had few reservations and such little trouble destroying me and all the other Commanders.”

“You didn’t give her a _choice_ ,” Madi snarled, and Emori quickly wrapped her arm around her, mildly concerned that Becca might be able to provoke Madi into attacking Raven. “You kidnapped her, you kept her from us for six years. _None_ of this would have happened if you hadn’t taken her.”

Madi was truly beginning to ramp up, her thin biceps already straining against Emori’s new hold on her, her eyes welling up as she yelled at Becca, “You _owe_ her, Becca! You stole six years from her, and from all of us. You owe us! You owe _Lexa_!”

Becca looked vaguely hurt by the implications, and she shook her head a little, her voice growing emotional. “Madi—I _never_ meant for things to wind up like this. You have to believe that I care about Lexa; just as I care about all of the other Commanders, and all of you. _All_ of humanity. I never meant for any of this to happen, and I’m sorry.”

Madi wrenched herself free from Emori and stepped out of reach, her eyes still trained on Becca. “Then prove it, Commander.” She held out one of the chips that still held the AI. “What’s the City of Light? How do we stop A.L.I.E.?”

“The City of Light is.. it’s a lie,” Becca replied quietly, a sick look on Raven’s face. “A.L.I.E. doesn’t interface with the human brain the way the Flame does. Or, did, I suppose. She didn’t understand people, and she thinks the answer to everything is to transfer everyone’s consciousness to this.. City of Light that she built. But it’s not a physical place, it’s.. digital. Not unlike the Flame--the body is elsewhere, but their consciousness, the.. essence of them, whatever it is that makes them.. themselves, is there."

“And the people who took those A.L.I.E. chips, that’s where they are now? The City of Light?” Emori pressed before Becca could wax poetic any further. Becca simply nodded.

“So how do we get them back?” Madi asked, glancing at the vitals screens herself.

“There’s a kill switch, in the City of Light. It will shut down A.L.I.E. and destroy the City of Light. The people there will be returned their bodies.”

“What’s the catch?” Emori asked, her voice tense. “There’s always a catch.”

Becca shook her head a bit, shrugging her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe the catch is that everyone is going to starve to death now, because of the crop fires. That certainly wouldn’t have happened in the City of Light.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Madi responded nonchalantly. “We always figure it out.”

Becca smiled a bit sadly at her. “I hope so.” She took a deep breath. “Give me one of the A.L.I.E. chips. I know where the kill switch is, but it could take me a bit to get there. Especially once A.L.I.E. figures out that I'm there."

Monty handed one of the other chips to Emori, who fingered it lightly, glancing at Madi, whom she could see was working the entire thing out in her head.

“What happens to you, and to Raven, when you pull the kill switch?” Madi asked, deliberately remaining between Emori and the chip, and Becca/Raven.

“Raven will be Raven again, and I will go back wherever I was before I was in Raven, I suppose,” Becca seemed less than pleased about this, which set aflame a whole new forest of worry for everyone else in the room. She seemed to sense this, and her eyes met Madi’s, her voice lowering. “I know you don’t believe it Madi, but I _was_ trying to do the right thing.”

“Its not that I don't believe it; I just don’t care, Becca. I don't care what your reasons were,” Madi replied petulantly. “You took my family away from me. As far as I’m concerned? Stopping this war, destroying the City of Light—that’s only a very, _very_ small start to you making anything right at all."

“Madi..” Tris whispered quietly, reaching out from the console to touch her hand lightly.

Becca, however, seemed unhurt by Madi’s words. “Every journey starts with the first step, right?”

“Sure,” Madi mumbled, taking the chip from Emori and holding it up. “As long as this first step leaves Raven alive, and still Raven.”

Becca nodded slightly and, as she leaned forward just slightly towards the chip in Madi’s fingers, she said quietly, “You're special, Madi. You must know that by now; you must have sensed it."

Madi just rolled her eyes, looking away, and after a moment, Becca just smiled a little sadly with Raven's lips as she gazed at Madi. "You remind me of me at your age."

Madi shifted stiffly; the dichotomy of the unfamiliar speech pattern and pitch coming from the incredibly familiar face of someone she loved was emotionally confusing, and the only coping method for it besides unleashing years of anger on Becca right then seemed to be simply staying silent.

Becca looked at her with a clear but quiet awe through Raven's eyes as she spoke softly. "May we meet again, Madi."

Madi’s voice was soft as she put the disc on the tip of Raven’s tongue and replied, “For your own sake, _Bekka_ , you should hope we don’t. If anything happens to Raven or Lexa, I'm going to blame you for it."

Becca nodded shortly and unceremoniously swallowed the A.L.I.E. chip. They watched as Raven’s body promptly lost consciousness, leaving the rest of them confused, worried, and quite unsure of what to do next.


	21. Hooks in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: verbal and physical child abuse, child homelessness, brief references to gender roles

_Hope we're meant for each other_

_Hope that love is our fate_

_Life feels like a whirlwind_

_You've been watching paint dry_

_Can't steady the current_

_No matter how hard I try_

_We could all use an anchor_

_You're not afraid of the sea_

_Let's both dive in together_

_Put your hooks in me_

\- Emily Kinney, “Birthday Cake”

**Polis, 2140 A.D.**

Emori clutched her stolen shawl a little tighter around her slim shoulders as her small frame wove easily through the throngs that had gathered for the Conclave. Most had seen the tendrils of red smoke winding and carelessly curling into the heavens as a summons of faith. They had come to pay their final respects to _Heda Aldiet kom Ingranronakru,_ and to witness the Conclave that would decide his successor from the current _natblida_ novitiate class.

Emori, however, had seen the smoke as a summons of another kind: opportunity. Hundreds of people from every corner of every clan, all neatly contained inside the city’s walls; every single one of them unarmed and ripe for the picking.

“ _Moba_ ,” Emori murmured softly, ensuring her charming dark eyes were wide and fearful; filled with an innocence Emori had been feigning, it seemed, since she could remember.

[Sorry]

The annoyance of the woman she’d bumped into dissipated rather quickly when she saw the scrawny girl’s nervous, bony little form. People were more forgiving of such minor social sins in the heart of the city; as long as you stuck to the upper echelon, anyway. Emori _had_ stolen from other outskirters before, but it was a risky game, reserved for only the most desperate of times. A thief was far more likely to recognize another, after all. Emori had made that mistake only once, and had it not been for the distracting arrival of a raiding party at that particular moment, she’d have lost at least one hand. Her life, if they’d figured out what she really was.

“Go on, child _,_ get out of here,” the woman made a dismissive shooing motion, already forgetting Emori's face among the dozens of other waiflike children milling around with dirty skin and no supervision.

Emori bowed her head and smiled to herself as she disappeared into the crowd once more. She ducked into the shadows and expertly navigated up the back alleys, before crawling beneath a precarious stack of fallen beams that masked the entrance to an abandoned building. The burnt-out husk hadn’t been used in decades, and the place reeked of sour mold and stale ash.

The stench suited Emori just fine, truthfully; it meant there was little chance of anyone discovering her besides the families of rats living in the wall.

Emori curled up on the bedroll she’d woven from stolen garments and took her gloves off. She untucked her shawl and watched with glee as the shining, bright red apple rolled down her arm and into her palm as if compelled there by a strong magnet.

She closed her eyes with a look of absolute pleasure as she inhaled the sweet, juicy scent and savored her spoils. The woman would never even miss it, she knew; there’d been at least two dozen in the basket. On the off chance that she _did_ miss one tiny apple amid her near embarrassment of riches, certainly she would never equate the missing food with the small girl who had so meekly apologized for bumping into her in a crowded street.

The delicious, tangy juice dribbled down Emori’s chin as she took a slow, satisfyingly crunchy bite.

With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she belonged in Polis. That she was a stall vendor, perhaps—she did make one hell of a rat-kabob if she did say so herself—or a textiles trader, or a healer hocking potions and and tonics, and sneaking bits of food to the local street rat children because she’d once been one. Maybe even a high-ranking warrior, here to prove her mettle for a spot in the new Commander’s personal guard; the highest of honors that could be bestowed on a warrior.

The bustling noise and chaotic confluence of various songs wafting their way into Emori’s strange little hollowed out sanctuary was comforting, and she lay back with a small smile on her lips. She drifted slowly into the fantasy, and wound up so deep inside it that she didn’t immediately hear the new voices joining the din far closer than any others.

“Stand. Up. _Straight_ ,” a curt female voice demanded, her tone laced with clear disdain and disgust. The order was accompanied by the sound of what had to be an incredibly hard slap punctuating each word, and it was followed by a slightly wavering, young, male voice.

“Ow! _Moba, nomon_! I'm sorry!"

[I'm sorry, mother!]

The young man’s apologies didn’t appear to be enough, though, and Emori cringed, her stomach turning as she listened to the woman hit him again.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid, useless _kodchuwa_! Are you a child, or a man?" She asked mockingly. She didn't even wait for an answer before another slap rang out. “ _Den yu na spek ai daun taim yu chich ai op, strik-mokskwoma_!"

[cow / Then you will show respect when you speak to me, little worm!]

Emori quickly climbed up into the remains of the rafters and stretched her body out on a narrow beam jutting from what had once been a roof. She quietly bit into the apple again, chewing thoughtfully as she gazed at the street below with curiosity, interest, and a fair amount of disbelief at what she was seeing.

It wasn’t just _any_ mother and son engaged in whatever this was down in the alleyway. There were dozens of people crammed into the narrow but abandoned area with them. Most of them wore very heavy winter armor despite it being very nearly the solstice, and all of them were standing at attention. Which made sense, given that they were the royal guard and attendants of the Queen of _Azgeda_.

Emori felt her eyes go widely round as she took in the arriving royal delegation and the grotesque display of wealth that existed just a few yards away from her still-growling stomach. There was a massive white-and silver sleigh being pulled by a dozen large, white, blue-eyed wolves who all sat quietly, patiently awaiting their master’s command. Emori had never seen anything like it—neither the animals, nor the contents of the sled. Her body practically quailed with desire and jealousy as her ravenous eyes scanned the veritable smorgasbord laid out before her.

There were baskets and baskets of fresh produce; berries and nuts, tubers and lentils and wild spinaches. Assorted greens, fruits and vegetables in every shape and color imaginable—half of the exotic and incredibly rich foodstuffs, Emori didn’t even _recognize_.

There were burlap sacks of fresh, soft, chewy yeast rolls, somehow still hot enough for tiny smoke tendrils to spiral into the air above them; massive bags of grains and sugars; crates of medicinal potions and compounds in little glass vials; casks of nutritious and delicious spiced honey mead; and a dozen crates full of bottles of _Azgeda's_ hard-sought and potent winterberry wine—the drink of preference for the last dozen Commanders. Known to warm you even in the most devastatingly cold temperatures, and so concentrated, it was even rumored to make dying of frostbite near painless. Frequently used as an anesthetic on the battlefield, and even right there in Polis for disabling particularly hostile or disobedient prisoners.

There was a large kettle that appeared to be overflowing with smoked jerkies, and two others with jars of jams and what looked to be various cheeses. Suspended from a rack built into the side of the transport were three freshly killed and dressed, incredibly large boars.

Suddenly, a single apple didn’t seem like such a great score at all, and Emori distractedly touched her lips to ensure she hadn’t actually drooled on herself at the mere sight of the dreamy feast.

The sound of a sharp, stinging slap rang out once more, and Emori’s gaze finally landed on the source of it.

Just below her, Queen Nia _kom Azgeda_ stood, a commanding presence in the fullest royal regalia imaginable. She was covered pauldron to boot in pristine white furs and rich dark leathers that made her look at once ethereal and dangerous. A delicate bone circlet was gracefully resting perched atop her severely styled hair, and it shifted slightly on her head as she firmly and emotionlessly boxed the ears of a boy of maybe 13 or so—no more than a year or two older than Emori herself.

Her son, Prince Roan, had his hands locked in place at his thighs, his fists so tightly clenched that his knuckles had turned white from stress. His spine was ramrod straight, his chin lifted and heels clicked firmly together; a commanding presence, the idyllic image of a proud warrior despite his youth. Emori gnawed distractedly on the apple's thick stem and held her breath in hopeful sympathy with the handsome young prince as his mother inspected him with a scowl.

The woman said nothing for quite some time, appearing to savor her son's involuntary shudder of fear as she circled him hungrily. Roan appeared to relax his shoulders no more than the width of a beetle's backside, and at that very moment, his mother brought her gnarled staff to bear across the backs of his thighs once, twice, and then a third time, before switching to his back for the next round.

Emori's face grew hot with shame for the boy as a strangled sob escaped his throat with each increasingly hard stroke on his tender flesh. With the fifth lash, the boy fell to his knees, his legs no longer able to support both his bodily weight, and the bruising force of the Queen's merciless lashes.

Emori was in disbelief at what she was witnessing, and she felt like she might be sick; felt like she should turn away from this unbearably private pain, but was unable to. Sure, her clan had exiled her—left her to die in the desert. Other clans were more direct, and simply killed the _frikdreina_ at birth, as was the will of the Commanders. Emori unexpectedly found herself musing that a slit throat suddenly seemed a gentle sort of punishment compared to the one which the Ice Queen continued to inflict on her child.

Emori had been in more than a few fights growing up, but no one had ever _beaten_ her. Hit her, shoved her, of course. A few moderately bloody fistfights, maybe even a broken bone or two. A few months back, she'd even been sloppy enough that her chosen mark had stabbed her, but only a little bit; it had healed in barely a week, even without clean dressings.

Emori had never in her entire life been beaten, though. Certainly not for some perceived crime of standing incorrectly. Certainly not in a way that seemed to suggest the motive for the beating was simply hatred, disguised as an altruistic intent to punish, correct, and better the boy.

How could someone hate their own child? It was the most unnatural occurrence Emori could imagine; even a mother wolf was compelled by the—the _way_ of things—to protect her pups with her life. Had Emori been born a wolf pup with the same genetic stain, she would certainly have been eaten before the umbilical was severed. As it was, her mother had been devastated to throw her away. Or so the elder woman who had rescued her had said, when she’d smuggled the _frikdreina_ infant to the same tiny shack where Otan was already growing up, thanks to her.

The shack was isolated deep in _Trigedakru_ territory; a treacherous and rocky 12 klicks away from anything at all. It was owned by a slightly-more-than-a-little crazy former herbalist named Filix who had been exiled; the only parent she and Otan had ever known.

Filix had taught them to fight, to hunt, and to heal, and they grew up living entirely off the land and stealing when they needed to—or, in Emori’s case, sometimes out of boredom or simply because she just wanted to. Filix had met an unfortunate demise when he mixed up a bottle of the sedative tincture he used to control his paranoia, and a topical paralytic he was developing for the many, many traps he had built in the surrounding area—for both animal and human trespassers. Emori was only eight when they’d finally found him several klicks from the house a week later; it had been just she and Otan ever since.

If not for Filix, and Otan, and later Ilian, she would have certainly been dead quite some time ago, with or without the elder woman’s criminal help; but Emori now thought that would still be preferable to a life spent being driven to your knees painfully and repeatedly, much less at the will and hand of someone who was intended to protect you.

Otan could be infuriating, and sometimes he was even downright mean; particularly if he was excited about a new location to search for tech—a task that was significantly less exciting to Emori. But brothers were just _like_ that, she assumed, and she had never once doubted Otan's affection for her.

She wondered a bit sadly if his father, or an attendant, or anyone at all, really, had even _tried_ to care about the young Prince before, or if he had simply always been on his own against the remarkably cruel _Azplana_.

[Ice Queen]

♾

Roan bit his lip until he felt it split wide open and begin to leak blood from between his clamped teeth. He had lost count of his lashings some time ago, but he wasn't overly worried about it. She would never risk making him yell as he counted them off a second time. Or a third, or a fourth; however many times it took until he remembered how many whippings he was due, while he was actively receiving them.

Then again, he hadn't quite anticipated being beaten half senseless in an alleyway inside the city limits, either. It was a big risk, particularly in the middle of a Conclave and upcoming Ascension.

"You stupid boy, you can't even take your head out of the clouds long enough to take your punishment like a warrior, like a prince. What are you dreaming about, cotton-brain? The betrothal offer from _Podakru_? You can forget about that. She ran off with an outcast, I received word yesterday, you know. She chose a _frikdreina_ over my worthless scab of a son, and I can't even blame her for it! A _frikdreina_ child would at least show some gratitude for everything I do."

Roan silently watched as a stringy mixture of blood and saliva dropped to the ground and pooled between his splayed palms. She hadn't told him to stand yet, but there was always a chance she'd be pissed he had to be told to do so in the first place. It was roughly the same amount of chance that she would be pissed he had stood without being told to do so; and that was what made this game of hers ultimately so goddamn hard to win.

That's when it occurred to him for the very first time, as he shivered and bled on his hands and knees there in a dirty alleyway. It was a game, alright, but **_she_** would always win. It didn't matter what she wanted, because she truly wanted nothing from him. She wanted _whatever_ was the opposite of what he gave, the opposite of whatever he did, said, thought, or _was_. She wanted a justification of some kind; an excuse, a reason to take her rage out on him. Whatever he did would be wrong, simply because he was the one doing it.

It was a startling realization that suddenly filled Roan with a kind of deadly sharp clarity that he had never before imagined possible.

It didn't matter what he did.

_It didn't matter._

He could do whatever he wanted, because she was going to beat him, and box his ears, and torture him regardless. It was a strangely freeing, empowering thought, and when the Ice Queen grabbed his ear and viciously yanked him to his feet again, for the first time in all thirteen of his years, Roan felt no pain; neither physical nor emotional.

He was the Ice Prince, after all. His veins pulsed with the frigid winds of the North, and he felt them crystallizing inside his chest as his entire body froze over, becoming impenetrable ice. He would be hard, strong, and shatterproof. She would not be able to break him any longer, because his tough skin and muscles would yield to neither sword nor fire, nor pain of any sort. Blood droplets sprayed from between his teeth with his quick exhale, and he took a great amount of pleasure in knowing that his bloodstained teeth would further infuriate his tormentor if she noticed them.

“What’s this?”

A cold chill rapidly spread through Roan, and he felt the blood rushing away from his face.

“No—“ he cried out before he could stop himself.

“No?” Nia’s face split into a wicked, cruel smile, and her head tilted slightly at the scent of a fresh wound. “You would tell me _no_ , Roan? Brave, but stupid. What is this little treasure of my useless son's, I wonder..”

Roan felt himself go small and still inside at his impending humiliation. She took her time unfolding the sheet of parchment that he'd so _stupidly_ left sticking out of his back pocket. Maybe she was right, and he was just a cotton-brained little worm; he certainly felt that way now. She let out a soft falsetto gasp as a small hunk of charcoal fell from the page, and her face was lit up with delight. Like a child with a brand new doll, that couldn't wait to rip its arms off.

“Please,” he whispered miserably, though he knew it was an action akin to asking the sky not to rain. She took far too much pleasure from his misery to not drag this out and make it as painful as possible.

_So much for the Ice Prince, with his veins of frost,_ Roan thought as the stinging burn of his mother's humiliation expertly melted him back down into nothing.

His cheeks burned as she unrolled the page and began to laugh. She held the wrinkled drawing with only her fingertips, like she was afraid his pitiful qualities could be contagious somehow, and it only served to make Roan feel even smaller than he already had. She continued to laugh with disdain at the sketch—which was nowhere even _near_ done, he would have liked to shout at the members of the Guard that were laughing at him now, too. It was hardly started, in fact; of course it was no good yet.

“Echo! Come here at once, girl!” Nia snapped, gesturing front and center before herself.

“Yes, my Queen.”

Roan studiously avoided Ash’s shame-filled gaze as she moved quickly to the indicated spot with a bowed head. Nia grabbed her arm roughly enough to bruise, violently yanking her over another inch to the left, as if that made all the difference in where she was standing. Her cheeks were burning too, so she likely already had _some_ idea of what awaited her on the parchment, and it made him feel infinitely worse that he’d dragged her into this mess right alongside himself.

He had been far too reckless the other day, when he’d followed her as she snuck out of the castle yet again.

The look of sudden peace hadn’t come upon Ash until she’d gotten a fair distance from the gate, which was understandable. No one had ever been able to relax around the Queen, not even the man she'd sworn fealty to. But once he’d seen the look, Roan had found himself in a sort of trance. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d stretched out on a wide, flat rock where it would be easy to stay hidden from Ash's view, and began to sketch her.

“What do you see?” Ash worked her bottom lip between her teeth uncomfortably as Nia dug her long, clawlike nails deeply into her pale, tender flesh and awaited a response.

Roan silently prayed the ground beneath Polis would open up wide and swallow them all.

“Ah—um, I see.. I see me, y-your Majesty.”

“Uh-uh-uh, I s-see me, y-your majesty,” Nia repeated mockingly, dismissively shoving Ash aside again. “Honestly, you’re both just pathetic and exhausting. Get in the back, I can’t stand the sight of either one of you anymore. This is going to be the longest Conclave of my life, surrounded as I am by willful, useless children.”

Without further ado, she tore the drawing in half and tossed the crumpled, smudged bits of parchment to the ground, grinding her heel into each piece as her guards helped her step back up into the plush blue seat at the sled’s front.

Roan climbed onto the back of the sled beside Ash, hoping against hope that she didn’t hate him for dragging her front and center, however inadvertently he had done so. When she glanced at him, he pulled his lips back, showing her the drying blood smeared across and between his teeth by way of flashing her a goofy grin.

Ash quickly covered her own mouth to hide her laugh, lest she draw Nia’s attention and make her forget she’d grown bored of them. She rummaged in her pocket and tossed the small chunk of charcoal back to Roan, who merely looked at her with a sort of worship in his wide eyes. He hadn’t even seen where Nia had thrown it, much less noticed Ash retrieving it. One thing his mother was right about—she would make a very fine spy someday, agile and sneaky as she was.

“Thanks, Ash,” he said quietly; too quietly for anyone else to hear.

Ash inclined her head, but set her jaw. “Echo. I’m Echo now.”

“You’ll always be Ash to me.”

Ash’s jaw set just a little bit tighter, and Roan braced himself, so he was fairly prepared for it when her reply came even more crisply.

“I’m _Echo_. I have to be. Ash is dead." She gazed at Roan for a moment, and they both felt suddenly so much older as the weight of her words truly hit them. Roan nodded silently after a moment, finally understanding.

Nia would never _rest_ until Ash accepted her new life, new role, and her new name. There was a Conclave now, sure, and perhaps they could get away with acting like silly children every so often because of it. But soon they would return to Azgeda, and the stark reality of life as it was under the Ice Queen’s incredibly firm thumb and sharpened nails.

Ash was dead, because Nia willed it to be so.

Roan refused to wince at the pain some of his newer bruises caused, as he wiped the blood from his teeth with the material from his pants leg. When he was fairly certain he looked Princely enough not to incur another whipping in front of the Tower Guard, he slid just slightly closer to Echo, and set his hand between them. Echo rested her own hand against his, and gave him a gentle, reassuring tap on his index finger—a secret gesture they’d made up in their 8th year that had historically been far more comforting than it had any right to be—as they moved out of the shadows and, finally, into the Polis city proper.

♾

Emori relished the soft, warm yeast roll whose first bite now lay in her mouth, delighting her tongue and bringing a look of pleasure over her face. She sighed contentedly and took another bite, feeling the other rolls she’d taken practically burning the backs of her thighs right through the thin burlap bag she’d stuffed the stolen bread into. Right beside two bottles of winterberry wine, several hands full of rich, smoky jerky strips, and a single, soft, plush white pelt that would be a divine addition to Emori's makeshift bedroll.

It was going to be an amazing night, she thought, as she more closely inspected the drawing she’d also nicked in the alley.

It was good, especially for a kid, she thought. It looked very much like the girl, but it wasn’t just an image of her face. Anyone could do that, Emori thought. Her brother Otan had a very skilled hand, but his drawing was all about accuracy and straight lines and crazy wire diagrams.

Otan was practically obsessed with collecting scavenged tech these days. Truthfully, she thought he was a bit stupid to believe whoever told him the right piece of tech would make them rich, but at least it meant he was less reluctant to leave her behind these days. She loved Otan, but a girl couldn’t even think sometimes, with a well-meaning and fiercely protective but also incredibly annoying brother breathing so far down her neck all the time.

Anyway, the point was, the torn drawing she’d rescued wasn’t like Otan’s drawings at all. It wasn’t a diagram, or a chart, or a tech study guide. It was a face, a very real face, and Emori tucked herself into the next alleyway up the road to gaze upon it again, because she felt oddly compelled to do so. She ate a second and then a third yeast roll, as she sat on a collapsed stairway behind a wrought iron archway.

It was a graveyard; a relic from the days when people had still been stupid enough to waste land on dead bodies. And in a time where there were plenty of live ones who had no land of their own to live on, never mind own in death. Foolish, Emori scoffed to herself, as she let herself inside a large stone sarcophagus. She stretched out on a slab of concrete beneath a gated window on the tomb, and set the ripped paper before her, carefully lining up the edges.

Ash, or Echo, or whatever her name was, was a very pretty girl, but that wasn’t what had Emori transfixed and only occasionally remembering to distractedly chew. The girl had been only minimally fearful of the Ice Queen, an impressive feat to be sure; but she’d otherwise seemed quite normal, and in the drawing she even had a soft smile on her relaxed face—which was why it was so very odd to Emori that she also, somehow, looked so incredibly sad at the same time.

The weight of the world was behind her eyes, and she wore an intricately crafted mask to hide it; a methodology that spoke to Emori loudly enough that she rolled up both sides of the drawing and tucked them into her satchel alongside the rolls, unable to look on it any more for the moment.

Emori laid down inside the tomb that ironically made her feel quite safe even in the busy city center, and spent the rest of the afternoon alternately napping in the intense heat and wondering if she’d rather trade for a life of excessive yeast rolls and a full belly. Eventually, she decided she’d rather have a brother who loved her instead of beating her, even if they were half-starved most of the time.

“We get by,” Otan always said. Maybe it wasn’t always easy, and maybe she would never really know what a full belly felt like, but she would never be beaten in hatred, either. She hoped, anyway; and suddenly found herself thankful that her mother had merely abandoned her.

She considered telling Ilian about what she'd seen in that alley, but it had been such an intimate and humiliating moment that she felt guilty having witnessed it in the first place. She wouldn't tell Ilian, or even Otan, about it then; she would forget it had ever even happened, and never speak word of it again.

It would fade, eventually. All pain did, if you lived through it for long enough.

“Could always be worse,” she whispered to the setting sun. Emori’s stomach wasn’t clenched with hunger pangs tonight, and even laying there, buried inside a long-forgotten monument to death, she felt strangely alive.


	22. A Downhill Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: physical & verbal child abuse, brief references to gender roles & body-shaming the deceased
> 
> stay safe, lovelies. <3

_I crashed down from a high that felt so real_   
_I never knew how much it would hurt to feel_   
_You gotta hurt sometimes to learn to heal_   
_You gotta get back up and learn to deal_   
_Well, I've sung this song a thousand times_   
_I wore the crown, I sold the lie_   
_I lived the life and paid for every crime_   
_It's all downhill 'til it's a climb_   
_Through blood and tears, but I don't mind_   
_I'll just keep singing on and on and on_   
_'Cause I'm a liar, I'm a cynic,_   
_I’m a sinner, I'm a saint_   
_I'm a loser, I'm a critic,_   
_I’m the ghost of my mistakes_

\- All Time Low, “Some Kind of Disaster”

**Polis Tower, 2140 A.D.**

Luna lay quietly in the courtyard, the strong arm of the willow tree curving upwards at the perfect angle to cradle her increasingly lanky thirteen-year-old body, the willow’s mossy tears hanging over her like a protective curtain; hiding her from the world. Well, as much as it was possible anyway, considering she couldn’t leave the courtyard. Technically, the novitiates were never supposed to leave Polis Tower itself, but the _natblidas_ made a regular habit of sneaking outside to the courtyard under normal circumstances.

The current circumstances, however, were nowhere near normal.

Tomorrow was the Conclave. It was the event of a lifetime, and one Luna had dreaded more than anything else since the day the _Fleimkepa_ had ripped her from her mother’s arms. Tomorrow, she would be given her sword and thrown into the pit; forced to kill her classmates, her friends..

And, of course, Lér.

She’d tried for years to imagine how she would do it. Mostly how she would make his death as quick and painless as possible. She hadn’t been able to picture it, though. Not any more clearly than she could picture taking her own life. It made sense, she supposed; they were very nearly the same person. Birthed from the same womb, mere minutes apart. A first, supposedly—born under a full moon, and both of them with the cursed Nightblood. Thirteen years later, Titus still struggled to tell them apart at times; particularly when they wore the _natblida_ ’s matching ceremonial robes.

It never once occurred to Luna that Lér might actually _win_. She was simply too good a fighter, and she knew her brother was too gentle, too caring to kill anyone at all;much less his own sister.

Luna’s stomach churned violently as she wished yet again she’d run away with Lér when he asked her to. It was two nights ago, when they first received word that _Heda_ ’s spirit had fled its former body, and Lér had cried when he begged Luna to leave with him, right then and there. And they could have done it then. Polis had been in utter chaos for hours, and it would have been easy for them to disappear into the panicked and emotional crowd.

But now, in an overpopulated Polis that impatiently awaited their promised bloodshed? And with four guard teams at every entrance, to boot; each one desperately hoping to snag a cowardly _natblida_ to put in the stocks for the remainder of the Conclave.

She had been too afraid to leave. They knew nothing of the world, how would two children on their own survive? Particularly with the entire world hunting them down for the rest of their lives. That had scared her, and now they didn’t stand a chance. She’d been afraid, and it would cost Lér his life. Luna’s gut was incredibly heavy with the weight of her guilt; an emotion that grew heavier still when she heard her brother’s voice calling out to her.

“Looney! Looney-Moon, are you pretending to be a flower again?”

Luna smiled despite herself, and slid down her favorite branch just far enough to hang upside down above her brother’s head.

“A flower?”

Lér grinned up at her; her mirror image except for the upper left tooth he was missing—it had been shattered when he fell from this very tree. They were nine, and she had climbed higher than ever before. Afraid she would be stuck, he had dutifully followed her up into the expanse of branches. It was he that became stuck, however, when he made the mistake of looking down. They had come down so carefully together, until he lost his footing on a weak branch. By the time they hit the ground, they were down two and a half teeth, and had three broken bones, all told.

“Flowers grow on trees,” he explained.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Luna smiled as she dropped out of the tree beside her brother. “You’re supposed to be purifying right now, you know.”

“I know, cause we’re _all_ supposed to be purifying right now,” Lér rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Titus sent me to get you.”

Titus noticed she was gone already? He really was on edge about this entire thing, Luna thought, then cringed. “Am I in trouble?”

“I don’t think so. The Queen wants to talk to you,” Lér informed her solemnly, his usually bubbly expression turning a bit dark.

“The Ice Queen?” Luna’s stomach shriveled up inside herself. She’d never met or spoken to the Ice Queen, but she’d heard more than enough about the woman to convince herself that she wasn’t in a real hurry to do either of those things. “What does she want with me?”

Lér shrugged, lowering his eyes, but he said nothing; he didn’t have to. They both had a fair idea of what she must have wanted with Luna, and Luna let out a heavy sigh as she brushed dirt and most of the leaves from her wild hair.

“Alright. Let’s go see what the _Azplana_ has to say, I guess,” she muttered, starting back towards Polis Tower. She glanced back at the tree only once, feeling a hollow sort of pain in her chest when she realized that no mater what, she would never again lazily hang from the safety of its hidden branches. Childhood had ended; she would either become the strong, stalwart tree herself, or she would forever be left hanging from its branches, a wild snarl of dead moss-girl.

Either way, her time as a flower was over, and Lér seemed, as always, to sense the crushing weight of her sadness, as he slid his hand comfortingly into hers, giving it four gentle squeezes. Luna smiled a little despite herself, their secret code warming her insides as it always did. Instead of responding silently, as was their custom, she whispered the five response words on a breath so quiet, even the long blades of grass couldn’t make out what was said between the tightly connected siblings.

“ _Ai,”_ squeeze _, “Hod,”_ squeeze _, “Yu,”_ squeeze _, “In,”_ squeeze _, “Sentaim,”_ squeeze _._

[I love you, too.]

Titus was glaring disapprovingly when Luna entered the Commander’s throne room. She hadn’t bothered to change her clothes, nor tame her wild, berry-colored snarled locks; the latter of which being a particular thorn in Titus’ side. He’d begged her for years to allow one of the _natblida_ Guardians to plait or at least wash it, but Luna had steadfastly refused. Her body was the only thing that belonged to her; even her very life was not her own. If she could soothe herself by tormenting Titus using a headful of tangles decorated with feathers, skinny lengths of string, and an assortment of multicolored metal bits, well, then that’s precisely what Luna _kom Trikru_ aimed to do.

_Do what you like to me; you will still never own me_ , she liked to intone during times of peak frustration. It had become her mantra over the years. _Do what you wish, I am free. I belong to no one, and no one belongs to me._

The last Commander’s body lay nearby, wrapped in a shroud. Tonight, the _natblidas_ would pay their final respects to _Heda_ Aldiet, blessing his body with the ceremonial ashes and asking his spirit to choose them. 

The Ice Queen was far more foreboding in person than even the darkest tales about her led you to believe. She sat on the Commander’s throne; a gesture that had to have Titus practically wetting himself in a rage over. There was nothing he could do or say, however. In the absence of a living Commander, _Azgeda_ were the Keepers of the Throne. No other leader had dared to sit upon it so very brazenly before, but then there _was_ a reason Nia was regarded far and wide as the harshest leader _Azgeda_ had ever seen. She had no interest in being a popular leader; merely a feared and respected one, and so she was.

Titus cleared his throat disapprovingly as Luna knelt before the queen, the black bottoms of her bare feet catching both his and the Queen’s gaze. Titus looked as though he may explode, but the Queen merely smiled at the sight before setting her icy blue gaze on Luna’s bowed head.

“That isn’t necessary, child. Come here, closer. Please,” she spoke in a way that sounded like she meant to seem kind, but her voice was appropriately chilling, and so it sounded more like a command than anything else.

Luna obediently stood up, her unhappy gaze immediately meeting Titus’ at the Queen’s side. Her eyes silently flashed her own displeasure back at him fearlessly. She had no reason to fear him anymore; she would either be dead or his boss by next sundown, and there was nothing for it but to bob along the waves until she found land or drowned.

She still shot several daggers at him before her gaze finally met the Ice Queen’s, and she gave the woman a pleasant smile.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Luna replied demurely.

The Queen chuckled softly, idly drumming her clawed nails against the arm of the throne. “You flatter me, Luna. Believe me, it is I who am honored to meet you.”

“What? Why?” Luna asked brashly; unintentionally so, shocking herself perhaps even more than Titus. “I apologize. I mean, why, Your Majesty?” She fumbled, her cheeks reddening past even the tone of her hair. The Queen, however, just laughed once more.

“Well, because you’re going to be the next Commander, cotton-brain. And please, call me Nia, won’t you? If I may call you Luna, that is. At least, until tomorrow, when I will call you _Heda_ , of course.”

Luna could only blink, stunned stupid by the direct and matter-of-fact way she had said both of those things.

“I—I’m sorry, erm, Nia. But do you know something I do not? The Conclave is not until tomorrow,” she pointed out uncomfortably. Beating Lér was an absolute, sure. But the others? The best odds were encouraging the majority of people gambling on the Conclave to put their savings on the line, and every last person in Polis knew it wasn’t Luna’s name on those betting slips.

“I just meant,” she rushed to explain. “I meant perhaps you would rather have this conversation with Lexa. She is.. the most favored to win the Conclave.”

Nia smiled, and though again it looked like the intention was kindness, it was too forced, and it came off more like a jungle cat regarding a piece of prey. Which was likely exactly what it was, Luna thought uncomfortably.

“Yes,” Nia began. “Your _fleimkepa_ has informed me of _Leksa kom Trikru_ ’s.. favor,” she paused with a pointed glance towards Titus. “However, I dined with _Heda_ Aldiet just a few days ago. Actually the very night just before he became so abruptly ill, the poor dear. He spoke very highly of you, and how.. unique, you are. Not just in your class, but unique among all others of your kind.”

“Twin _natblidas_ ,” Luna replied softly, finally understanding why it was that Nia was backing her.

“Born under the full moon, and at winter’s solstice,” Nia finished, sitting back in the throne and crossing one leg over the other as she regarded Luna with her feral smile. “Did you know that your name, Luna, means moon? I mean, it seems as though the universe is practically insisting that the moon Commander, born at winter’s rebirth, have a close alliance with the Ice Nation.”

Luna forced her cheeks into an uncomfortable smile in return, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. The carriage full of delicacies now made sense as well; it wasn’t a glorification of Ice Nation’s considerable resources, it was tribute. It was a bribe, a payoff. A flexed muscle of power and wealth, delivered with a promise of much more where it came from, in exchange for becoming a figurehead of leadership.

Nia could buy just about anything and anyone she wanted; anything, that was, except the black blood of the Commanders. She could no more give it to her offspring than herself, either, and my, but Luna thought how infuriating that particular fact must be.

“Ice Nation has much more to offer than just what you’ve seen here, of course. Wines and breads are lovely, but they do spoil eventually. There are things that last far longer than even the most sought-after jerkies that _Azgeda_ is known for. Friendship, loyalty. Alliances. Titus, will you please find out where it is our supper banquet has gotten to? I’m sure Luna would appreciate a meal before the blessing ceremony, wouldn’t you, dear?” Her frosty eyes found Luna’s, making it quite clear that Luna’s sole option was to agree with the strange sidebar, and so she nodded. Her tongue was far too thick in her mouth at the moment to do anything more, but it seemed a sufficient enough action for Nia to smile, and for Titus to clear his throat once more.

“Certainly, I will see that the meal is brought swiftly, Your Majesty. Luna?” She flicked her troubled gaze to Titus’ with a desperation in her eyes that she never imagined feeling for her despised pseudo-father. “Indra is posted at the door. Should you require anything, she will be listening closely. You need only whisper her name and she will hear it."

“Thank you, Titus,” Luna whispered honestly, relief flooding her. She may not be Titus’ favorite, nor Indra’s, but they would both sooner die than allow her to come in harm’s way. And Indra in particular, she knew, had never so much as flinched even in the face of _Sheidheda;_ it had been told as such around many a campfire for as long as she could remember. She would no more fear Nia than she might a wild rabbit, and trust her no further than that, either. And so Luna felt quite safe with her a mere cough or snuffle away.

Titus bowed his head, close-shaven on either side of a tightly plaited warrior’s mohawk, and gazed reassuringly at Luna once more before leaving the room.

“Well, then. Let us remand to the Commander’s private dining quarters to continue this negotiation, shall we?” Nia said, offering Luna her hand as she stood from the throne with an impressive amount of grace for such a reputed warrior. Not quite knowing what else to do, Luna uncomfortably took the woman’s bony hand, marveling that skin could manage to feel so very cold when Luna could feel sweat beading at the small of her own back. “Do you have a favorite wine yet, Luna? I must be embarrassing myself, of course you do, a mature young woman like yourself. I am probably biased, of course, but I really do prefer _Azgeda’s_ winterberry wine. I am honestly not myself until I’ve had my breakfast goblet. It goes well with anything, you know. Anything worth eating, of course. I should know, I’ve had everything worth eating, and every wine in existence. Someday, you will have, too.”

Nia linked her arm through Luna’s as they walked, and she tried not to shudder as the Queen chattered on, seemingly happy enough for Luna to quietly listen; an act which suited Luna just fine, as she wouldn’t have known when to interrupt to respond, anyway.

“Have you ever had the pleasure of bacon, dear? I know it’s unlikely, they probably feed you pups whatever bits and scraps the _Heda_ left laying around. No wonder you’re all skin-and-bones, the way Aldiet would stuff his face. Oh, don’t look so startled, dear. We’re all just people, aren’t we? Aldiet was quite the handsome boy once upon a time, but, well, let’s just say he was well-suited to life in the tower of plenty. He’s grown a bit thick around the trunk over the years. It’s a shame when a man lets himself go like that, but we did always say Old Aldiet would never swear fealty, and so he could be as rotund as he wished,” Nia laughed as she stood at the Commander’s dining chair. She paused then, glaring from one dining hall attendant to the other with growing annoyance.

“Well?” she finally snapped, causing both of the guards and Luna all to jump in place. But not, Luna gratefully noticed, Indra, whom Luna hadn’t even noticed following them down the still-confusing corridors of the top floor. One of the guards realized what it was the Queen was waiting for and quickly moved to pull the Commander’s dining chair out for her.

She sat down with an annoyed huff, then turned the charm back on quickly as she addressed Luna once more. “You don’t mind, just this once, I’m sure. I mean, with it not being official yet, and visiting royalty like myself, you know, I can’t be seen as inferior to a child. They don’t know what we know yet.”

Luna smiled sweetly, taking her seat to the left of the Commander’s as she always did. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I think I will continue to sit in this chair in the future, anyway. _Heda_ always complained that one gave him a sore backside.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Nia looked as though she’d caught a foul scent on the air, and Luna couldn’t help but to swell with pride, even as she maintained a sweet, genuine smile. “Well, that’s.. Unseemly, isn’t it? Not really appropriate dinner conversation for a young lady, I must say. No offense intended, of course.”

“Of _course_ ,” Luna parroted back sweetly, folding her hands on the table. “We should finish up before our meal comes, then. He once had to get a topical from a healer, but he couldn’t even put it on himself. I guess because he was so _rotund_ , like you said. So then they had to bring another healer in four times a day to put the medicine on _Heda_ ’s behind, until it healed up and he could sit properly at dinner again. That’s when he had the pelt brought in and put on the seat, cause it took weeks for the medicine to work, and _Heda_ with a sore backside the whole time.”

Luna watched with a growing sense of accomplishment as Nia glanced at the pelt she sat on with distaste. Standing against the wall opposite Luna, Indra was watching her with pride glowing in her eyes. The large doors to the hall opened then, and a small parade of attendants carrying a massive feast began to file into the room.

Giving Nia another sweet smile, Luna set her napkin across her lap and wiggled her bare, muddy feet under the table. “Perfect, just in time. Shall we change the subject?”

Nia gave her a slightly sick smile in return as she laid her own napkin across her lap as well. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” She turned to one of her own attendants—she had brought only six of them to the dining hall with her, as opposed to the additional dozen that had flanked her in the throne room—and asked brusquely, “Where have the little rats run off to now? Why is it that three children can keep three _dozen_ trained, adult, Royal Guards, so perfectly and constantly befuddled, even when they are entirely confined to a single floor of a _building_? Why do you still have a job with me, Yvin? Be a dear and remind me, won’t you?”

One of the attendants—Yvin, Luna presumed—stepped forward nervously. “Your Majesty, they crawled into an open pipe that was too narrow for us to follow. They have been apprehended in the courtyard and they are on their way here now, under guard. I don’t know why it’s taking them so long, I’m sorry, My Queen, I—“

The man was close to tears, and Nia waved him off with a look of disgust. “Oh, stop your blubbering, Yvin, honestly. You’re an embarrassment and a slob, go relieve your sister and tell her she’s been promoted to the Guard in your place. Make sure she knows it’s because she’s more of a man than you are.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Yvin ducked his head before hightailing it from the room, and Luna merely blinked again at the bizarre display.

“I apologize, Luna. I am humiliated by their behavior, but I assure you, it’s no slight towards you, or the Seat of the Commander. My son and wards have a habit of slipping away, though as you can see, it’s fairly easy when I’m surrounded by ineptitude. Good help is harder to find than ever, and certainly a Queen can’t be expected to run around after wayward pups all day. Usually Ontari is the responsible one, but I suppose the Conclave has all of you children going primal. I mean, does your hair always look like this, dear?” Nia asked conversationally, taking a sip from her goblet. “Understandable during the circumstances, of course, but once you’re _Heda_ , you’ll need someone to teach you to dress and present yourself. I can’t imagine Titus is much help, the man wears the same sheet every day,” she laughed, patting Luna’s arm in a way that made her skin crawl.

One of the attendants began to pour the famed winterberry wine into Luna’s goblet as well, but she quickly placed her hand over the rim of the cup. Giving the woman a gentle smile, she said softly, “ _Mochof_ , Shay, but I must have a clear head for the blessing ceremony tonight. Perhaps another time.”

[Thank you]

Shay, who had been old even when Luna had been small enough to cradle and sing to, smiled back sweetly. “Of course, dear. The Commander wills it so.”

“The Commander wills it so,” Luna agreed, clasping Shay’s hand gently as she did.

Nia had watched the entire interaction carefully, but to Luna’s surprise, had seemingly no reaction to her declining the drink she’d so voraciously extolled. Rather, she looked curious as she asked, “Are you so close with all of your attendants,Luna?”

Luna’s brow lifted slightly in surprise. “Ah—I suppose I am, Your Majesty. I never thought about it before now, but,” her shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug. “I’ve known everyone here for most of my life. And they are all I have known, and I am grateful for them. _Natblidas_ and our Guardians are the largest and most honored family in the Commander’s lands, bound by blood and forged in fellowship,” Luna recited, trying her best not to sound as dull as she felt, spouting Titus’ favorite lie.

Nia regarded her, nodding ever so slightly and looking moved—undoubtedly falsely so, but an appropriate royal reaction nonetheless. “I think you will be a strong Commander, Luna. You care for your people, and you want to do right by all of them.”

“Yes,” Luna agreed softly. She certainly couldn’t deny that much. She might not take most of the _natblida_ nonsense seriously, but she was quite serious about being devoted to their people, Commander or no. It was what ultimately prevented her from running away every time she’d considered it over the years. She could be a good leader someday; she knew it, and that thought kept her holding on despite herself.

“That’s what all leaders want,” Nia responded, beginning to fix her plate. “You will find very few honorable _Azgedans_ that will complain about me as a leader. If you’re willing to learn, Luna, I am happy to help you when you take command. You would have the benefit of learning from someone more experienced, a successful leader, and I have the benefit of having a friend like you.” Nia smiled, and Luna smiled back politely.

Thankfully, she was spared having to respond to the offer by the entrance of the guards escorting the kids that had run off. There were three of them, and they all looked around the same age as herself. They were all suspiciously clean, their hair still wet, and Luna had to contain a smirk when she realized she knew exactly where they had been.

She, Lexa, and Hazel had discovered the wide-mouthed pipe several floors down as well. After a particularly upsetting scolding from Titus, the three girls had snuck down to the dank, smelly riders’ floor. The Commander’s messenger force rarely interacted with anyone besides other messenger riders, and spending all of one’s time with horses and without running water for weeks at a time made for an uncomfortable level to be on.

However, it had meant less guards around, and so they had wiggled into the pipe after confirming days earlier that it did in fact reach outside—they’d thrown a dinner roll down it, and retrieved it the next day, just outside an abandoned section of the main floor, in a muddy ditch. They’d thought it was their lucky day, as the _Azgedan_ children also must have; right up until they realized they were crawling on their hands and knees through the building’s sole operational sewage pipe.

The kids hadn’t been missing long, Luna was now certain. They had merely all needed a forceful scrubbing before being sent to dinner, and not one of Nia’s guards had the guts to inform their Queen that her children were covered in _skrish_ in front of the supposed Commander-elect.

[shit]

"Well, well. What do we have here? So nice you all decided to finally grace us with your presence. There was a time all three of you would be beheaded for disrespecting your Queen and your future Commander this way. What most of us call the good old days. And just what was so important to all of you, that you saw fit to be so terribly disrespectful, and as guests in _Heda_ ’s home?”

The kids sat quietly at the table, none of them looking up from their laps at first. At least, until Nia slammed her staff against the wooden floor like a thunderclap. Then all three of them stood abruptly, their heads bowed as low as possible. 

One of the girls, who was quite sweet-looking, with long, dark hair and solemn, fearful eyes, was the first to speak. "Well, one of the Tower guards told us to go outside and play, because we were underfoot. I told him we weren't supposed to do that, to go outside, and that we would get in a lot of trouble for it, and he said he didn't care, and then h—he attacked us, so—”

Nia's eyebrow lifted as she carved into the roasted pig with a sparkling dagger, quite close to the girl’s place setting. "Really? One of the Commander's personal guard attacked children, because you didn't want to go outside? That's quite the story, Ontari. Was that before or after you crawled into the pipe?"

Ontari looked mildly shaken as her gaze finally broke from the uncomfortably close dagger at the question, and she balked; apparently she hadn't considered someone might tell the Queen about that part of things, even if they were too scared to tell her what sort of pipe it was. Luna felt bad for the girl, but couldn't imagine any way to step in and help her; not any way likely to make it even worse for her, anyway.

"Uh. B—before. We went into the pipe to get away from him, so he couldn't.. make us go outside, or kill us,” she finished weakly. "And that's how I hurt my hand, but I—“

At this, Nia's face suddenly contorted into a dark sort of rage all at once, and she sneered angrily as she interrupted, "You were injured? How _stupid_ are you, girl? This is the very last time you will accompany me anywhere, do you hear me? I wanted you to see the Conclave for yourself, and now you've made me sorry I allowed it. Get out of my sight, you lying little scab. Spend this time worrying about how much time _I_ have to consider appropriate punishments for you.”

Ontari was sniffling as she stood up from the table, cradling what Luna could now see was her right hand. It had a bandage wrapped around it to an obviously unnecessary thickness, nearly as wide as the girls own thigh. She had probably bandaged it herself in a complete panic, Luna thought, considering the way Nia had reacted to her getting injured. Not as though she’d been worried about her, but as though Ontari had purposely injured herself, just to make the Queen’s day harder, and she was angry about it. The poor girl hadn't deserved _any_ of the Queen's cruelty, and Luna felt a whole new layer of dislike growing inside herself for this beastly woman.

One of her guards hurried Ontari from the room, clutching the girls injured hand as though it might fall off and forcing her through the doorway roughly.

“Well. We can discuss your punishments later on. I wanted you both to meet someone. This is Luna _kom Trikru_ , and she’s the most promising novitiate this crop. Luna, this is my ward, Echo, and of course, my son, Prince Roan. Azgeda’s most eligible bachelor, I might add,” Nia winked slyly, and Luna tried to smile pleasantly, but truthfully she was beginning to tire of the Queen’s abhorrent company.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Luna inclined her head towards them. They responded in kind as they filled their plates demurely, their cheeks still matching burns of humiliation.

The last of the feast had been brought in and laid out on the banquet table, and Luna was relieved to be able to occupy herself with dinner. Nia’s company was exhausting at best, and emotionally destabilizing at worst. The tired looks on the kids’ faces seemed to suggest that behavior of hers was, at least, consistent, and something she could expect a lot of in the future, if she did become _Heda_.

The Prince had wide, blue eyes, and a series of fresh bruises and cuts across his face and arms. He caught her looking at him, and rather than turn away, as she would have had it been him looking at her, he smiled shyly. She returned it kindly as Echo nudged him teasingly and whispered something that turned his cheeks pink.

“How are you two enjoying Polis? Is it your first time visiting here?” Luna asked politely before taking a bite of the tender, juicy roast.

“I’ve been here a lot, this is Ash—ah, Echo’s first time here, though,” Roan responded. He seemed excited, actually, that Luna had spoken to him and shown an interest. Nia looked momentarily as though she was going to interrupt, but to all of their surprises, she said nothing and merely continued eating. If the future Commander bonded with her children, all the better for _Azgeda_ , which likely suited Nia just fine.

Luna turned to the girl, whose long hair fell in gentle waves across her face and past her shoulders. “How exciting that must be, Echo.”

Echo cleared her throat, smiling shyly back. “It has been, thank you, _Heda_. I wish we could stay longer. You’re lucky, getting to live here and walk the marketplace anytime you want.”

Luna smiled a bit stiffly at this, and stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth before speaking around it. “Please, call me Luna. I am not _Heda_. And actually, I’ve, um.. I’ve never been to the marketplace.” She flinched instinctively, anticipating being mocked in some way about it; the way normal children did on the rare occasion they were allowed a glimpse of the strange little cadre of _natblidas_ on one of their exceptional trips outside the confines of Polis Tower and its courtyard. She was quite surprised when neither Echo nor Roan laughed.

“Are you serious?” Echo’s dark eyes had gone wide and round. “That’s—That’s terrible. They keep you prisoner here all the time?” She looked somewhat impressed by that fact for some reason, and Luna felt the slightest bit of pride swelling in her chest. Her first time truly interacting with someone her age besides the _natblidas_ , and it was going pretty well, if she did say so herself.

“Mm. _Natblida_ life is all study, study, fight, study,” Luna elaborated, careful not to sound as though she was complaining.

“That sounds awful,” Roan volunteered, picking apart a roll with his hands. “Being cooped up all the time, nothing to do but learning.. The fighting part’s cool, though. You must train even more than me.”

Luna smiled. “I don’t mind. It is a privilege to be considered by the Commander’s spirit, we’re quite lucky, and we must earn this opportunity we have, in both blood and honor.”

“Maybe we can duel sometime,” Roan suggested, and Luna couldn’t help smiling even wider; unrealistic a proposition as it was, it also sounded awfully fun.

“I would enjoy that, but I am not sure you would,” she teased, and Roan laughed. 

“Sounds like a bunch of crap to get kids to kill each other to me,” Echo muttered, poking at her plate distractedly. Luna’s brows lifted slightly, at the same time Nia reached out and slapped the roll from Roan’s hands, before slapping his cheek as well.

“Are you trying to shame us all?” the Queen hissed, giving him a hard kick under the table for good measure. “You are not an _animal!”_

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes and head lowering quickly as he folded his hands in his lap and then folded in on himself, his shame brightly visible in the air around his red face.

“And _you_ ,” she continued, her eyes falling to Echo, who was seated too far away for a knock unless she wanted to use her staff to do so—something Luna hoped she would not be forced to witness. “That tongue of yours is becoming a rather large problem recently. See that you hold it in the future, or I will have it cut out to help you do so.”

Luna lowered her eyes, feeling terrible for both of the kids. She might be heading to her almost certain death in the morning, but they would have to deal with the horrible woman for the rest of their lives; perhaps longer. It really could always be worse, Luna supposed. Titus and Indra were hardly the ideal parents, particularly for a bunch of children who had, as she liked to remind them, once had real parents of their own—but being a _natblida_ , even a dead one, seemed preferable to being raised by someone like the Ice Queen.

At least Titus and Indra, and _Heda_ Aldiet had cared for them, and perhaps that meant a bit more than Luna had thought it did mere hours ago.

♾

Luna placed her bloodied hands on either of Lexa’s damp cheeks, trying not to fall to her knees at the reminder of Lér that would haunt her all of this life and well into the next few. Lexa was panicked beyond belief, her green eyes wide and fearful as tears streaked through the thick sheet of Nightblood smeared across her trembling cheeks.

“ _Leksa_ ,” Luna hissed desperately. “ _Leksa_ , please, we can’t stay this way long, I must speak to you, _ai beja yu daun_ ,” she pleaded with her oldest friend. Something in Lexa must have connected then, because she stopped struggling, and her hands loosened around Luna’s wrists.

[I’m begging you]

“Please, I’ve already killed—I killed—he’s gone, Lexa. They pitted us against one another first, and he’s gone, and I am here. I have lost my brother today, Lexa, I won’t lose my sister, too. I won’t take my sister’s blood, _Leksa_ , _kom Trikru_. You will make us all so very proud as Commander,” Luna choked on a sob, her thumbs gently brushing through the tears and blood on Lexa’s cheeks as they both cried harder.

“Luna, don’t do this, please, I won’t let you die for me,” Lexa begged her, all of the strength in her twelve-year-old shoulders working to hold tightly to the other girl.

“My silly little Lexa,” Luna couldn’t help a brief, tearful smile that barely lifted the corners of her lips. “I will not die for anyone but myself now. I promise. If you ever need to find me, find Lincoln.”

Lexa looked even more scared, if that was possible, and her fingers dug sharply into Luna’s arms. “Don’t leave me alone. _Please_ don’t—“

Luna lifted one hand from her cheek and lovingly stroked her hair. “ _Leksa_ , you’re _Heda_ now. You will never be alone again, I’m so sorry. _Ai hod yu in_ ,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss in the center of Lexa’s crumpled brow. “Be brave, little Lexa.”

It wasn’t until her shock of red hair disappeared into the thick forest they’d grown up in that Lexa realized she hadn’t replied to Luna. It took far less time for her to come to her next startling realization; that she would never be able to find Luna, because if she did, it was now her sworn duty to kill her. It was Titus’ sworn duty to kill her. She knew far better than to allow herself a foolish fantasy that her objectively limited powers would allow her to offhandedly dismiss the law about killing _natblida_ traitors. However, there was no law, old or otherwise, that stated a _fleimkepa_ had to scour the world searching for the traitor.

And so her first act as Commander would certainly have to be forbidding Titus or anyone else to look for her, because you couldn’t kill someone you weren’t allowed to look for.

The crowd that surrounded her was growing to a deafening level as they, too, realized what had just happened. Half of them seemed excited that Lexa was now _Heda_ ; the others were engaged in a crushing race to follow Luna into the forest.

Lexa, still dripping with the blood of her brothers and sisters, silently wished her only remaining family the best of luck and a wish to meet again someday, before her voice sounded out louder than she had ever heard it before.

“ _Noumou_! _Noumou_! Anyone who follows her will also be branded a traitor! You are all expected to return to your camps and be ready for my Ascension at nightfall! Your Commander wills it so!” she cried, with every ounce of power she could muster in her painfully tight chest.

[Enough! Enough!]

But she couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her lips as the people— _her_ people, now—boomed as one in reply, “Our Commander wills it so!”

♾

When Lexa was finally alone, she caught sight of herself for the first time since the Commander’s spirit had chosen her. The claw-footed tub behind her awaited with steaming hot water—one of the few benefits of being Commander, she supposed, along with a ridiculously huge, soft bed that she was actually quite looking forward to collapsing on. A set of armor had been laid out for her already—it was tradition that a Commander receive new armor as a gift from the top blacksmith, and the suit of armor would eventually be retired to the untouchable wardrobe in Titus’ sanctuary.

It was the first of many traditions that Lexa now aimed to stomp on, and so she had retrieved Luna’s personal armor from her room, before Titus or anyone else had a chance to make her things disappear. Lexa had kept the armor for herself, and placed the rest of Luna’s belongings in her own trunk, silently hoping she would have opportunity to return them to her someday. She set her childhood and her emotions into the trunk as well, and locked it all away before entering the washroom.

The large plated mirror was another—well, ‘ _benefit_ ’ might be too strong a word, but certainly Lexa had never had opportunity to see herself regularly. Vanity wasn’t encouraged among the _natblidas_ , and she’d never been overly concerned about her appearance, anyway.

This time, however, she couldn’t seem to stop staring at herself; mostly because she’d never looked so completely foreign to her own eyes before. Her rounded face was coated in the black blood of her former friends, and streaked through with her own blood, tears, and sweat. There were multiple divots in the sickening mixture, where Luna’s hands had gently pushed it aside to reveal swatches of skin in between. The ghost of her fingertips decorated the edges of the black teardrops that seemed to be running down Lexa’s cheeks, and it took only a few cursory swipes of her own clean finger to smooth the edges of the dripping blood smear.

_Fitting_ , she thought. A Commander born in blood, gifted a mask of tears by the moon herself; each one marking the death of someone she had once called brother or sister. Seven lives taken, two spared. Not numbers Lexa liked the look of, despite it being a 100% improvement over every other Conclave.

It lacked inspiration, she thought to herself. Why save two, if you could save everyone? Why save your family, if you could focus instead on saving the entire _world_? It was a heady, intoxicating sort of feeling. Freeing, in a way, almost.

Lexa need never care about an individual person again; it was her _destiny_ to worry only of the big picture from here on out. She would turn her tears into leadership; her grief into granting small mercies; and her weaknesses, she would forge into strengths and make a weapon with which to cut down her enemies.

Lexa stared hard at her unfamiliar new reflection, her new war paint firmly in place and suddenly knowing which of the sacred images she would choose for her Ascension markings.

The star map, with it’s seven circles. That was the memory she wished to carry across her back on her journey; that’s what it had cost for her to be able to change the world. She would bear the mistakes and atrocities of her people, whether such things were committed by her hand or on her order, or not. Those seven deaths were on her, regardless of how many lives she had taken by her own hands in the Conclave.

Each of them had died for her; someday, Luna would likely die for her, too. And so, later that night, when Titus brought in the chosen artist and asked her which sin she wished most to bear while serving as Commander, Lexa’s stoic answer to Titus and the rest of her people was simply, “All of them.”


	23. Slow Grenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arkadian delegation arrives at New Polis in preparation for the Conclave.

Help me.. my god, this got messy

You say name like you know my dark side  
Can't beat the taste of the tears that I'll cry  
Slow grenade is blowing up my mistakes  
Can’t escape this blowing up in my face

So tell me, why don't I stop it?  
Still got time for me to stop it  
It's like a part of me must want it  
That’s why I’m not running from it

Help me.. my god, this got messy..

\- Ellie Goulding, " _Slow Grenade_ "

**Slow Grenade**

"They moved it."

Bellamy eased off the accelerator the moment the arcing front gate of New Polis came into view. He turned his attention to a massive structure attached to the edge of it that hadn’t existed a few days ago, as the rover came to a mild rolling stop behind a thick copse of weeping willows. Like drones in a hivemind, the remaining occupants of the vehicle leaned forward in almost comical synchronicity. Each set of wide eyes fixed likewise to the edge of New Polis' new fighting pit, followed by a shared sense of dread settling upon each set of sagging shoulders.

"They _used_ it," Aden added, his disgust palpable as he took in the bloodied whip walls and gates. There were even splatters of blood smeared and splashed across the welded signpost bearing the settlement’s name.

"That’s a hell of a message," Luna muttered, her body tensing as she crossed her arms and slumped further in her seat. Her oceanic eyes were twin hurricanes, the roiling storm growing inside her threatening to burst forth to the surface.

"Welcome to New Polis. Now die," Echo intoned, shaking her head before looking deliberately in the opposite direction.

" _Wonkru_ certainly didn't waste any time, did they?" Clarke mumbled, clearly distraught as she spoke for the first time since they'd left Arkadia.

"Gaia wouldn't have allowed it," Abby replied quietly, shame filling her eyes as she briefly met her daughter's icy blues, but Clarke remained unmoved by both her mother's apologetic gaze and her functionally vacant words.

"Don't you mean _Chancellor Kane_ wouldn't?"

"Clarke," Abby admonished gently. "That's unfair. Especially knowing what we know now about the chips."

Clarke whirled to face her mother, years of rage cutting through her flashing pupils like a heated blade through thin ice.

"Unfair? You know what's unfair, Mom? That every person who has ever claimed to love me is always so goddamn quick to throw themselves at any sword that comes along. What's unfair is that the love of my life is about to die, and the love of _your_ life could stop it from happening! But he won't, even though we _know_ Gaia's under mind control. What's **_unfair_** is--"

Abby interrupted, her gravelly voice catching in her guilt-thickened throat and breaking as she addressed the raging ray of sunshine she and Jake had created--then subsequently broken, damaged, and disappointed; somehow, each failure an act of love nonetheless.

" _You_ are the love of my life, Clarke. You have been since before you even existed. I dreamed of you from the time I was a little girl. I always wanted you, I have always and will always love you more than anything or anyone on this planet."

Clarke just let out a small scoff, turning her face away from her mother, her jaw locked tightly behind her clenched teeth.

"Clarke. Don't you think if there were something I could do, if it was just about persuading Kane, that I would do it without a single thought to anything or anyone else? He doesn't want this either. You know the situation is more complicated than any of that."

Clarke silently shook her head in defiance, crushing her lower lip between her teeth.

"Hey. Look at me, Clarke. There is a _lot_ about your life that's been more unfair than most, but you have never, _ever_ , been a victim of not being loved enough, Clarke Griffin. So don't you _ever_ question that again."

Clarke turned her head away to look out the window again, remaining silent with a set jaw. Abby turned back towards the front once more, a similar stormy-but-determined look on her face.

Clarke picked at a few loose threads at her cuff, trying desperately to keep her mind focused on something. On anything; anything but where they were, and what was about to happen.

On anything at all besides the list of names of people who could stop it and wouldn’t.

Glancing upwards slightly, her eyes caught Roan’s. He hadn’t said a word either; not since his goodbye with Emori at Arkadia. Clarke had been far too lost in her own mind thinking about Lexa to spend much time thinking about anything else. Now, though..

"You’re awfully quiet," she noted.

Roan shrugged, twirling the sharp tip of his dagger against his fingertip. "What’s there to say?"

"I don’t know. I just thought out of anyone here, you’d have an opinion on all of this."

"Why me?"

Clarke shrugged a little. "You’re a king. Honor, duty, executions. Kind of your thing. Especially in _Azgeda_."

"It’s not _my_ thing," Roan narrowed his eyes, frowning at her. "I've never ordered an execution. Or a conclave. Don’t take this out on me, Clarke. You’re running low enough on friends as it is."

Mollified by Roan’s cold yet accurate depiction of her current situation and the serious look on his face, Clarke mirrored Luna’s slumped posture, crossing her arms across her chest and setting her jaw as she stared unseeingly out the window once more.

♾

Clarke sat in Kane’s overstuffed armchair, picking at loose threads on the timeworn upholstery anxiously. She wasn’t entirely sure what Kane wanted with her just now, but she was seriously considering spitting in his face when he came in, purely on principle.

She’d been promised time with Lexa, and there wasn’t much time _left._ She wasn’t looking to spend any of it getting more lessons on Dante’s Inferno, or listening to Kane uselessly waxing philosophical when actual lives were at stake. When love _itself_ was at stake, as far as Clarke was concerned.

The front door of the house opened, and Clarke instinctively tensed up, but it wasn't Gaia--whom Clarke had yet to see since the delegation from Arkadia had arrived, and was hoping to avoid for the rest of their lives, brainwashed or not.

That wasn't the thought that made Clarke pause, though; it was the dawning and unexpected realization that it wasn't Kane coming through the door either. Clarke swallowed thickly, her mouth a sudden desert as what little hydration she had left in her body was redirected towards tear production.

"Lexa," she whimpered, not caring or even noticing how insipidly childlike she'd become in the three seconds it took Lexa to open the door and step through it. She held her arms up and out without moving, her fingertips outstretched and fanning towards the only thing that mattered to her at the moment.

Lexa's face softened even further when she saw Clarke's pain so bare and brashly displayed. A verbal response was lost to her as she silently swept over to her person - to her _Clarke_ \- and allowed the blonde to coax her forward into the chair as well. Lexa felt her body melting into place as she settled firmly on Clarke's lap. She noted sadly that it wasn't as soft a seat as it had been the last time they'd done so six years ago.

She still fit quite perfectly into the cradle of Clarke's hips, though, and her head found a familiar, solid shoulder right where it had always been. Lexa folded herself into Clarke's embrace, gently pressing the tip of her nose into the sweetest little corner of Clarke's neck, just behind her ear. She nuzzled the spot affectionately, inhaling deeply as she did. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed, her impossibly taut muscles showing the slightest hint of surrender, and a ghost of a smile danced at the corners of her lips at Lexa's ever-shameless approach to cuddling.

She always claimed Clarke's personal scent--whatever that was exactly--was strongest in that spot. Lexa found it comforting; centering. More than once she'd stolen a small item of Clarke's--a scarf, perhaps, or one of her arm warmers--and carried it with her through the day. Sneaking covert sniffs in corners and between meetings, parched with thirst for the scent of her anchoring point.

"Kane arranged this?" Clarke asked quietly, and after a long time.

"Gaia."

Clarke's eyes opened and her head lifted from where it had settled comfortably against Lexa's. Lexa let out a grunt of displeasure at the loss of contact, but Clarke frowned with confusion.

"Where are the guards? Only outside?"

Lexa sighed quietly, resigned to the lack of Clarke-based head contact. "There is an attendant on the front porch in case we require anything. Come back here, please?"

For good measure, she stuck her lower lip out just slightly, but Clarke was obviously not in the mood and, considering the circumstances, Lexa couldn't quite blame her for it.

Clarke shook her head a little in disbelief. "I don't understand. So we could just.. walk out of here?"

Lexa slowly pushed herself out of Clarke's tensing lap, taking a step to the side and straightening out her open coat. Clarke was like a jaguar feasting and confident in the sunlight, and she would not be deterred from the bone she was now rolling about in her mouth.

Lexa thought it seemed more prudent to vacate the lap region on her own rather than risk being dumped to the floor accidentally when Clarke's tether inevitably snapped and she stood to make a point. Last time she'd done it, she'd made it up to Lexa five-fold overnight. Lexa had been exhausted at all of her delegation meetings in Polis, having not slept a wink, her sore thighs racked with a delightful pain with each step she took.

_Fivefold_.

She wasn't foolish enough to think such an incident would bear the same results, given the circumstances. No, best to be avoided altogether.

"Gaia did not believe that I would violate the agreement, as I came willingly. She said I deserved the chance to say a proper goodbye, because of my exit being so.. rushed," Lexa gave the explanation in what she had hoped was a detached tone, but it had come out sounding far more bitter than she'd intended.

Clarke's face darkened slightly at Lexa's inflection, and she replied dryly, "Well, I can see you’re very grateful for that chance."

Lexa sighed, leaning against the sideboard and ducking her head a bit, her eyes on the wall and back to Clarke.

"There is a reason I left the way I did, _Klark."_

"Because you think the only way to solve our problems is for you to die," Clarke snapped back, but there was no venom behind it, just a sense of defeat. "And you didn't have the guts to tell me to my face."

"Because I did not know if I would be strong enough to walk out the door if I had to do it looking at your face," Lexa corrected quietly, maintaining her braced position.

She could feel it coming; Clarke was visibly trembling, and she didn't even have to turn around to know it was happening. It was in her heavier breathing, and the slight catch of each breath in her throat. Clarke _was_ the missile, she _was_ the bomb, and despite her preparations, Lexa's shoulders still cringed instinctively when the explosion came.

"You're only going through with this because you're _afraid_ , Lexa! You can't figure out how to be alive after what you went through, what you’re still going through. You hate yourself because of this stupid idea of yours that you're part _Sheidheda_! You’re not!"

Clarke’s face held a cascade of tears now, but she made no move to wipe them from her cheeks. Rather, she gently cupped each of Lexa’s, drawing her closer and searching her eyes intently. She waited for Lexa’s brilliant emeralds to finally, reluctantly, meet her own cerulean pools.

Clarke’s solemn cadence held steady as she said softly, but firmly, "You are one hundred and ten percent Lexa, and one hundred billion percent _my_ Lexa. Don’t you dare forget that for one _second_."

Lexa looked at her for a very long time. Clarke's chest was heaving, and her lashes were clumped by the tears dripping from them. Her deep ocean eyes were wide and alert; they had never before looked so bright or so earnest.

"Perhaps you're right about that, Clarke. But even if that's true, you know this is how we save them. Our kids, our family. Our people, all of them, including _Wonkru_. You know this is our most favorable option," Lexa coaxed quietly. She touched Clarke's rosy cheek gently, like a feather drifting across her furrowed, collapsing brow. Clarke sobbed softly, confirming Lexa's statement for both of them.

"I can't lose you, don't you get that? I'd rather we all die together, than sit here and have to watch you dying. Again." Clarkes eyes moved rapidly as they flicked between either of Lexa's, pleading with her in all the best ways she knew how to.

" _Klark_ \--," Lexa began, her voice catching in her dry throat.

“I dont know how to live without you! How can you just _leave_ _me_ — ** _hic_** —like this?” Clarke’s voice broke severely, with ‘th’ the only bit of her last word still audible.

Lexa brushed her hair from her brow gently, her serious gaze locking on to Clarke's overflowing pools. Her voice was gentle, but solemn and firm.

"You can't disappear this time; you have to promise me that. Madi needs you more now than ever. She is so much like you, when you first came to the ground."

"Terrified? Clueless? Disappointed beyond belief?" Clarke emitted an embittered laugh, shaking her head a bit.

Lexa smiled sadly. "Courageous. Cunning. A conscientious leader with a big brain and an even bigger heart."

Clarke's cheeks flushed at the bold complements, but she merely moved to the rear window and leaned against it, gazing into the seemingly endless forest.

"Aden reminds me more and more of Bellamy every day. Brave. Loyal. Occasionally dumb enough to challenge the women in his life even though every one of them could kick his ass."

Lexa smiled lightly, her duster jacket sweeping across the floor as she joined Clarke at the window, resting her chin on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her.

"Me, too."

Clarke rested back against her, watching as a bird landed in the backyard, pecking vigorously at the ground for some of the dwindling remaining insect population.

It would be starving soon enough too, she couldn't help thinking with regret as she replied, "I really hate it. I don't want them to be leaders. I didn't want to be a leader. Bellamy always acted like it's what he wanted, but he never really did. He just did what he thought he had to do to protect O, and that meant being in charge," Clarke tilted her head slightly so she could catch Lexa's eye. "He didn't _want_ it any more than I did."

"I doubt it is what our children want."

"It's not what Luna wanted either," Clarke was reserved as she reminded her. "Sometimes we make other choices."

"Sometimes," Lexa agreed. "But Luna founded _Floukru_ , though she was unable to play a role in Polis due to our laws then. Still, even now, she is a leader in her own way. She does so quietly, and by maintaining a.. a _balance_ , in a delicate system. Without anyone seeing how complex the balancing she must do truly is. There is a reason she and Raven and John have worked for so long, but she makes it look very easy when it cannot possibly be so."

"Playing peacekeeper between Murphy and Raven is probably the worst job you could have after Commander," Clarke noted lightly.

"Chancellor is a difficult job, as well," Lexa stated, bringing a furrow to Clarke's brow.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with me thinking you should give Marcus a break. He's doing the best he can in a terrible situation. He cares for your mother, and for you."

Clarke's body had gone completely tense the moment she'd said _Chancellor_ , and Clarke stood straight once more. "If he cared for me he wouldn't be killing you."

"Clarke--"

"No, Lexa! I don't want to talk about Kane; much less hear about how I should forgive him. If we have to talk about any of this right now, I think we should talk about why the hell we're still standing here. We can just go; she doesn't have the kids anymore. We can just walk out that door and _go_."

"She has a missile, Clarke! She has an angry and very large army that could easily destroy Arkadia three times over, and she still has the full support of nearly all of Wonkru, which means nothing else even matters. And she is not the biggest fan of mine; or of yours for that matter."

"If all that's true then why are we here? Why aren't we under guard, why take the risk? If she's as smart as you and Indra keep claiming, she knows I'll never kneel to her, so what's she playing at with this?"

"Gaia wishes to show mercy to my people; because she knows the day will come when the wounds begin to heal, and she wishes the fracture between her people and mine to be narrow. She does not want you all to hate her, she wants you to follow her."

Clarke searched her eyes intently, her fingers tightening around Lexa’s slim wrists. Her gaze and voice were incredibly serious, and it was clear she had never meant any words more when she replied simply, “Never.”

“ _Klark_ ,” Lexa’s voice shattered in her throat and her lower lip trembled. She quickly pulled her eyes from Clarke’s, fixing them on the wall as she struggled to keep it together. “ _Beja, ain niron_. stop trying to make this harder.”

[Please, my love]

“It can’t get any harder, Lexa. You’re telling me I have to lose you, and that I have to follow your killer? _Ai beja yu daun, Heda_. Would you follow Gaia, after what she did to me, to Madi?”

“That is _exactly_ what I am doing, Clarke! Do you think I am _happily_ handing over my life, turning my back on my family? Our duty to our people comes first. We agreed on that.”

“We’re your people now, Lexa! They all want to worship at the altar of Kane, then _let_ them! They made their choice!” Clarke snapped coldly, without an ounce of empathy in her voice. It quickly softened as she cupped Lexa’s cheeks, steadying their locked gaze.

“Lexa. _Ain Leksa_ , I love you. We can leave here—us and the kids, we can just go back to the Ring. We have a crop ready to eat up there already. We can just go,” Clarke was nearing tears, and it was very clear that she meant every word she was saying as bright pools of cerulean welled.

“ _Klark_ ,” Lexa admonished; but her voice was shaky, too. “You don’t mean that. What about your mother? What about the rest of our family—Raven and Luna, and—“

“Don’t say Murphy,” Clarke warned, releasing her cheeks with a frustrated sigh. “He’s dead to me. He’s dead to the kids, and he’s _definitely_ dead to Raven and Luna. I don’t care if you agreed to it, he betrayed us.”

“Clarke, once upon a time you and I betrayed each other, too, and now we’re family. And Murphy is still our family, too. We still care about him, and we still wouldn’t leave him behind on a planet whose resources have run out. We wouldn’t do that to anyone.”

“Since when do ‘ _we_ ’ make those choices?” Clarke muttered, going over to the decanter set and pouring herself a glass. “Nobody asked me how _I_ felt about any of this.”

Lexa's eyes narrowed just a bit as she watched Clarke. "Now you know how I feel.”

Clarke set the heavy glass down hard on the solid wooden cabinet and whirled on her. “Is that what this is about? Getting me _back_? Okay, I’m sorry I kept you alive, I really am, Lexa. But that doesn’t make it okay to disappear on me!”

“I am not the only one who is disappearing, Clarke,” Lexa said coolly, her fiery green eyes falling to the decanter set just behind her. “I am watching you do it here and now, when our son and daughter are out there. When our family is _out there_ , fighting to survive. They need you, Clarke.”

“We need _you_ , Lexa! I do!" Clarke’s voice broke sharply as the dams behind her eyes collapsed. “I can’t do this alone. Any of it. After all we've been through, you can’t expect me to just sit here and watch you die tomorrow.”

“I have never expected anything from you, Clarke. Every thing you have ever given me was.. surprising,” Lexa smiled lightly despite herself, thinking back. “From the minute you walked into my quarters and handed me Anya’s braid, I knew you were different from anyone I had ever met." She smiled to herself, lost in the memory. "Or even _heard_ of.”

Lexa had moved closer as she spoke, and gently slid her hand over Clarke’s—which was clutching the glass once more, though she couldn’t remember exactly when she had picked it up again. Lexa’s fingers wormed their way into the spaces between Clarke’s as she continued softly.

“I was ready to hate you. And you somehow knew exactly the right thing to do to make that impossible for me,” she admitted softly, leaning slightly into Clarke’s back as she guided her hand off the glass. Lexa ran her free hand down Clarke’s other arm until those fingers entwined as well, and then guided both of Clarke’s hands back to rest on her stomach. Lexa’s arms encircled her from behind, gently tugging her close, until their hips cradled together and Clarke’s head naturally fell back onto her shoulder.

“Lexa—“ Clarke protested softly, her body instinctively forming itself against the curves and hollows of Lexa’s slightly taller frame.

“Shh,” Lexa interrupted, turning her head to kiss Clarke’s neck softly. A soft gurgle escaped from the back of her throat, and Lexa smiled as she repeated the action. This time, Clarke moaned in protest, and pulled away slightly.

“You can’t make me forget what’s going on by doing that,” Clarke huffed, crossing her arms.

Lexa gazed back at her longingly, her desperation in her eyes. “Clarke, I’m—this is.. not easy for me, no matter what you might think. I am not at all happy about it, I just know that it is what I must do. But I’m.. I—" she fumbled, searching for the word as the weight of her emotions increased.

"Afraid,” she finally admitted very quietly, her eyes glistening with emotion.

Clarke looked at her for what seemed to be an extraordinarily long time. Lexa just pleaded with her silently in return, and the look of shame that was simmering beneath it all was what finally broke Clarke.

“Me, too,” Clarke finally whispered back, nodding her head slightly. “God, Lexa, I—“

“Show me,” Lexa implored, her hand finding its way back to Clarke’s dampened cheek. “Don’t tell me, Clarke. Just show me.”

She’d barely finished her plea when Clarke’s lips were on hers, Clarke’s fingers encircling her hips and pulling her closer. Lexa gasped softly in surprise, but responded quickly, sliding her hand over the side of Clarke’s head, her fingertips brushing the inner shell of her ear.

The parted briefly for a shared gasp of fresh air, and Lexa felt the tear that rolled down her cheek then, but made no move to hide or wipe it. She just gazed at Clarke in devotion and vulnerability, and Clarke gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as if to let Lexa know that she understood, she didn’t want to spend their last night on Earth together arguing.

This time, Lexa let herself fall apart when she felt Clarke’s lips capture her own, and together they fell, deeper and deeper; together, they fell all the way into forever.


End file.
